


Steve vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda

by MrBarnesIfYaNasty



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Artist Steve Rogers, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, F/F, F/M, High School, M/M, Multi, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:40:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 53,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23664772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrBarnesIfYaNasty/pseuds/MrBarnesIfYaNasty
Summary: Its the Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda/Love, Simon AU that nobody asked for!COMPLETED! - Steve Rogers is in the closet. And he's fallen in love with a guy he's never even met. Talking entirely through emails, Steve and the mysterious Winter are falling for each other hard. When one of the emails falls into the wrong hands, it looks like Steve's biggest secret is about to be revealed to the entire school. What does this mean for his high school career? how are his friends and his Ma going to take the news? and, more importantly, where does that leave his relationship with Winter?(Based on the novel rather than the movie)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov/Sam Wilson, Peggy Carter/Sam Wilson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter One

  
  
  
  


Senior year.

I should be worried about college. About how I’ll keep in touch with my friends. Or how to convince Ma that art college is actually a viable career move. 

But all I can think about is him.

And that he’s a him and not a her.

Well. Ok. It’s not exactly a surprise that I’m gay or anything. I realised that not so long ago when my obsession with some of the male Batman characters tipped over into More Than Just Your Average Fanboy. But now that I’m into someone, someone real. It means that the whole gay thing has gotten real too. 

Coming out. It’s a big moment right? If you’re lucky, then it’ll all be over in a flash and no-one will really care that you like guys. We’re always being reminded of how it’s 2019 now and attitudes have changed. About how being gay really isn’t a big deal anymore. Well, if you’re like me then 2019 or not, you’re living in fear that someone will out you. And on the high school Tumblr of all places. 

Fucking Brock Rumlow. 

  
  


****

  
  


“You really should learn to log out Rogers,” he says to me as we pretty much bump into each other in the library. Look. I get easily distracted these days ok? For the most wonderful of reasons too...

“What are you talking about?” I don’t really have that much to do with Brock. He’s a theater kid like me but, other than his class clown status, our paths never really cross outside of rehearsal. He’s one of those kids you’ll forget until you’re flicking through your yearbook years later. In theory, totally innocent. In practice, not so much.

“The computers,” he tosses a thumb over to the bank of computers at the other end of the library. “I went onto the one after you to check my emails and you were still logged in”

Well shit.

“How do you even know it was me?” I shrug as I try my best not to launch into Major Panic Mode. I try for the patented Nat Side Eye but, to be honest, I probably just look constipated. Nat’s the friend in our squad who excels at derision. 

“Cos I saw you using it?” Brock answers with his best ‘well dickhead’ face. “What’s with this whole Captain America thing anyway?” He continues. “Kind of a weird-ass fake name even if you are into superhero stuff” He gives the Batman symbol I’ve inked on my backpack a glance. It’s not exactly a secret that I’m a major comic book nerd. 

Except, when I made the name up at least, I thought it was pretty genius. Who the hell would get Steve Rogers from Captain America? Turns out I might as well not have bothered considering I just gave myself away in the dumbest way possible. Batman would be ashamed of me. 

“Y’know my brother’s gay,” he continues in such a conversational manner you wouldn’t think he was about to launch directly into threat territory. 

“Great,” I say sarcastically because god Rogers, you really did fuck up on this one. Here I was thinking I was being so careful too. I’ve put so much thought into coming out and stuff but Brock Rumlow wasn’t exactly my top choice for the first person outside of my emails to find out. 

“And it’s totally not a big deal,” he shrugs. “I legit don’t have a problem with it,”

Well, that’s big of you I think. We stare at each other for a few seconds. He’s looking at me intently and I’m just about dying on the inside because I’m realizing where this is going and I don’t like it. Not one little bit. 

“Just be who you are man,” he adds with another shrug. God damn, this is awkward. And yes, I’ve said it before but I’m so stupid. This is all because I couldn’t wait. All because of Winter. I’d sent him a pretty important email and I was dying to find out if he’d replied. Now I was just dying of mortification. “I’m not gonna like, show anyone or anything,” 

“What?” Because he did not take a fucking screenshot of my secret private email account.

I stare at him. 

He took a fucking screenshot of my private fucking email account! 

“You’re really close with Peggy Carter right?” He continues. “So I figured-“

“How about we discuss the fact you took a picture of my private-“ 

“So like, I figured you might wanna help me talk to her,” He interrupts. I think he’s actually starting to blush but I’m so pissed that it doesn’t really register. If this was any other time but now I’d be finding his crush all kinds of cute. 

  
  


“Wait. So, you’re blackmailing me and you want me to put in a good word for you?” I ask incredulously. Brock’s known for having pretty big balls. You’d have to be to go up on stage in drag in a less than progressive high school and live to tell the tale. This though. This takes the cake.

“Hey man, it’s not like that. Just like, invite me to stuff when you know she’s gonna be there. That kinda thing. She’s always pretty focused during rehearsal so we don’t get to hang,” 

“Or what? The screenshot makes its way onto the high school Tumblr page? Or maybe your fucking Facebook?” I really hope I look as angry as I feel and not like I’m about to burst into tears. 

“I figured we could help each other out,” and there it is again. The casual fucking shrug. Like it’s nothing. Like we do this shit for each other all the time. “Anyway, I gotta get to class so just think about it ok?” 

He turns to leave and I’m just standing there totally stumped like my whole world has just ended. Which it probably might have. Like I really can think about it. Like I really have a choice in this. 

“Oh,” he turns around. “One more thing though, who exactly is this Winter Soldier dude?” 

“He lives in Indiana,” I reply quickly because he’s not exactly being quiet. There’s no way in hell I’m going to throw Winter under the bus. 

Because it’s a lie. Winter doesn’t live in Indiana. He lives here in Brooklyn. We go to the same high school and Winter isn’t his real name. He could be anyone that walks these hallways and I wouldn’t know if I walked past him every day. Hell, I probably do. He could even be someone I know already. But, the thing is, despite how I feel about him, I don’t think I want to know who he is. Not yet.

  
  


****

  
  


I’m so done with the day that I don’t even stop by the house to dump my school stuff. I make a beeline straight to Sam’s. I crank up the volume on my podcast and try to lose myself in the world of Salvador Dali. It’s a kick ass series that I can’t get enough of right now. I’m on a bit of a surrealist kick. I even have the Persistence Of Memory poster on my bedroom wall to prove it. 

Instead of art, my thoughts turn to Winter and Brock Rumlow. It’s really not all that surprising that Brock is into Peggy. Most of the nerdy theatre kids are. Most of all the kids are actually. She arrived at our school a year ago from England and lit up the stage with her amazing singing voice and prodigious acting talent. She’s pretty and intelligent and of course, she has the accent. She fit in immediately, launching herself in all kinds of after school activities and the school council. And all Brock wants me to do is talk him up to her. I guess, putting it like that, it doesn’t sound so bad. It’s the sort of thing I’d do for a friend. 

Except it is. Because what he’s actually doing is blackmailing me. And he is definitely not my friend. And all I want to do is tell Peggy how much of a fucking tool he is. 

I head straight to Sam’s basement. As always Sam and Nat are sitting in battered armchairs and, on the TV in front of them, another irradiated mole rat meets its maker. Judging by the array of soda cans and chocolate bar wrappers littering the carpet, they’ve been here all afternoon. The perks of not participating in that much extracurricular stuff I guess. 

“So did you decide to spare Megaton or blow them sky high?” I ask as I take my usual place on the couch. 

“Saved them. Figured I’d be good this time,” Sam answers, eyes locked on the screen. “And it’s a good buying and selling hub”

“Cool, cool” I reply. To be brutally honest, I couldn’t give a shit about video games. Not even the Arkham series with its inclusion of Jason Todd could lure me into that pastime. But this is exactly what I need today. The video game chat with Sam and Nat, the Hershey’s Kisses I have stashed in my backpack and the familiar smell of Sam’s comfortable old basement.

“So how was rehearsal?” Nat asks although she doesn’t take her eyes off the screen either. She’s pretty hardcore when it comes to video games. Most people think she does it for attention. The whole gamer girl schtick. I’ve seen Nat make guys cry when they’ve challenged her to Call Of Duty. Hell, I’ve seen her make them cry when they look at her the wrong way.

“Eh, it went,” I shrug. I really didn’t want to think about rehearsal now. Especially because Brock Rumlow had been there. He may be a scheming asshole but he also happens to be a pretty talented actor with one of the leading roles in our current production of Oliver Twist.

“Did I tell you about the weird dream I had last night?” Sam asks. He’s wandering through an abandoned supermarket now, picking up useless junk for reasons I can’t fathom. “I was wearing scrubs and-“ 

“Samuel,” Nat says with an expressive roll of her eyes. “I thought we made a deal back in sixth grade not to bore each other with our dreams,” She cracks open another can of Dr Pepper. “And I fully expect you to honor that agreement,”

“Do you know what Freud said about dreams Natasha?” Sam replies, mocking her tone. “He believed all dreams are a form of wish fulfilment. My dream was basically confirming I’m picking the right career,” 

Nat’s not looking at me but I know exactly what she’s thinking. Despite the fact we’ve known Sam all our lives and therefore have seen him vomit after that hot dog eating contest and all other kinds of gross stuff, she can’t help the fact that she finds the idea of Dr Wilson in his blue scrubs hot as all hell. I mean, I kind of do too although I’m totally adhering to my policy of not falling for straight guys. Still, it’s a dreamy prospect all the same. Sam’s pretty cute and he’s got that whole musician thing going on too. Not to mention those eyes of his. 

Nat though...she’s fallen hard. It started a few months ago. Little subtle hints that her feelings for Sam were more than friendly. And then Peggy moved to town and things got complicated. 

He was always trying to make sure he sat next to Peggy at lunch. I’d even caught him googling British slang. He kept trying to impress her with his knowledge of the UK and tried to make her laugh. He’d throw in the odd shoulder touch here and there. And all the while Nat’s side-eye had gotten more fierce. Now every time Sam flashes Peggy his trademark winning smile and puppy dog eyes, Nat acts like she’s suddenly forgotten how to speak to any of us. 

I guess if I really have to be the world’s most reluctant wingman for Brock Rumlow then that would be an upside. If Brock and Peggy get together then maybe, just maybe, Sam will stop mooning over her and things will go back to normal. The way they’re supposed to be. 

  
  


*****

  
  


From: jasontoddstires@gmail.com

To: wintersoldier36@gmail.com

Subject: THE Day 

Well damn Winter. That’s a pretty hot story and you know I have to ask, did you see him again after the party? 

I guess fair’s fair and I should tell you about the time I worked out I’m gay. I guess it was a bunch of stuff that all came together? Like how the guys in my class would talk about how hot a girl was and I was sat there drawing Dick Grayson in his tight Nightwing outfit, concentrating on the ass of course. A lot of Nightwing artists do actually. I’m so not complaining.

I tried the whole dating thing. Just once though. There was this school dance. She’d asked me to be her boyfriend a month before but it was one of those silly school romances where you call yourself boyfriend and girlfriend but you don’t even meet up after school or anything. Just some minor hand holding in the hallways. A lot of other kids in my class were doing the couple thing and I didn’t want to be left out despite thinking that it felt awkward and wrong somehow.

Anyway, so there we were. The dance was winding down and I’d done a pretty good job avoiding the dance floor (god you don’t want to see me dance!) and then the DJ (who was just the music teacher playing his 80s power ballads) announced it was the last song and played that god awful slow song from Top Gun (a movie that was also part of my Gay Awakening. Two words. Volleyball scene). My girlfriend wants us to join in the couples awkwardly shuffling around and I just knew that it meant she expected me to kiss her at the climax of the song.

And here is my proudest moment for you Winter, I made some terrible excuse about drinking too much punch and needing the toilet. And then, well, MAYBE I high tailed it all the way home. And MAYBE I hid in my friend’s basement for the rest of the evening. Ok...yeah...I’m the actual worst but it just didn’t feel right y’know? She was really nice and everything but I just couldn’t make myself like her in the way I knew I should. I guess it confirmed things for me. Although, real talk? I did have another girlfriend after that. But that’s a story for a different email.

Wow. This is the longest thing I’ve ever written outside of a school essay! Curse you and your ability to make me spill my guts! Still, today has been all kinds of weird so I appreciate the distraction. 

Captain America.

  
  


From: wintersoldier36@gmail.com

To: jasontoddstires@gmail.com

Subject: RE: THE Day

Well, Cap, I gotta say, being the recipient of your longest non-school text is quite the honour. I’m not really one for emailing myself. And I definitely don’t ‘spill my guts’ to anyone either. Just you. 

You should let yourself off the hook over the dance thing though. I remember the whole middle school ‘dating’ scene and it was all kinds of awful. It’s weird how we’re so desperate to be part of a couple at that age yet when we are, we have no clue what we’re doing.

As for your question, yeah, I saw him again. It was VERY awkward considering he was with his fiancée at the time. It’s weird because even though it was just a fantasy and nothing ever happened, I still couldn’t look his fiancee in the eye. When someone becomes part of your Gay Awakening (loved that term, stealing it) you feel like he’s really important to you even though he probably barely gives you a second thought. 

Sorry to hear about your weird day though Cap. Hopefully tomorrow will be better...

Ok. It’s killing me. I’m going to have to ask. If you realised you were gay, how did you wind up with another girlfriend?

P.S I found the volleyball scene on Youtube. Thank you!

\- Winter 

  
  


From: jasontoddstires@gmail.com

To: wintersolider36@gmail.com

Subject: RE: THE Day

Argh. It just sort of happened? The whole dance debacle was a total shit show but after that one of my friends said she was glad I wasn’t seeing that girl anymore because she liked me. And one thing led to another and before I knew it I’d agreed to go to the movies with her. She ended up breaking up with me after a month but it was painless and we stayed friends until her family moved away a couple of years later. 

I suppose, deep down, I wasn’t ready to accept the gay thing? When you realise you’re different it feels like this huge deal and I guess I just wanted an easy life? Maybe I wasn’t sure I was totally gay or maybe I was thinking of the old adage ‘it’s just a phase’. 

Still, I know for sure now.

Captain America

  
  


*****

  
  
  


I’ve decided the worst thing about the Brock situation is the fact that I can’t breathe a word of it to Winter. It royally sucked having to describe it as a ‘weird day’ because I’m already not used to keeping things from him. 

I mean, there’s a lot of things Winter and I keep to ourselves. We talk about the really important things, our thoughts and our feelings but all the while we both make sure to omit anything too revealing. Our friend’s names, teacher’s names, our extracurricular activities. All of the things that I used to think made me me. 

But they’re not secrets as such. It’s an unspoken agreement between the two of us. We can get as personal as we want but we can’t get specific. And, to be honest, I really doubt I’d be spilling my guts to Winter if he was a real senior with real grades and a real Facebook account. I mean, I know he IS a real senior but also, at the same time, he lives on the internet. I guess I’m not really making sense...

  
  


It’s actually ironic that I’m worried about Brock posting the screenshot on the school Tumblr. That’s how I ended up in this email relationship with Winter to begin with. The school Tumblr is mostly garbage. Nobody knows who even started it. It was just there one day, acting as a breeding ground for news and gossip. Who’s dating who, random confessions, anonymous advice and so on. Don’t get me wrong, it’s garbage but it’s also like a bad reality show, weirdly addictive. It kind of sucks you into its shitty drama. It’s a good place to waste an hour or two.

I was trawling through it one night, shaking my head at the pseudo motivational quotes people had posted because OMG ITZ SENIOR YEAR!!!11!! and there it was. A simple post. A poem actually. Short and well written and about feeling adrift and alone at such an important time. It was sensitive and well written. And it just spoke to me. Despite how lucky I am having Ma and my friends, I can’t help but feel lonely sometimes and usually when I do I lose myself in my art. That’s exactly what Winter’s poem was about. Feeling lonely and finding solace in art. Before I really knew what I was doing, I commented. I’d wanted to reply with something as well thought out and eloquent as the poem itself but I was feeling so excited and keyed up that all I could manage to type was THIS!!! And, for some unknown reason, I added the address of my secret Gmail account too. 

It caused me a whole world of anxiety. For just over a week I checked my email way more than was healthy. Finally, 9 days after my reply, I got an email. He admitted to feeling overwhelmed by my response and also wary of emailing a random person on the internet, especially someone who more than likely went to his high school.

I still remember so clearly how seeing that first email made me feel. He was instantly so easy to talk to and it didn’t take long for us to bond. And that’s why I can’t tell him about Brock. He’s so careful with his messages, making sure not to give any clues as to who he might really be. If he finds out about the screenshot he’ll probably stop emailing me completely and there’s no way in hell that I’m going to lose him.

*****

  
  


As it turns out, it’s pretty easy to avoid Brock despite the fact we share some classes and he’s playing one of the lead roles in the play. Every so often he tries to catch my eye but I’ve been stoically ignoring it. I suppose that makes me a coward. What makes it even dumber is that, as of last night, I’ve decided to go along with his stupid blackmail. 

It makes me pretty distracted so I’m not my usual animated self when I sit down to dinner with Ma. She’s on top form as usual, happy because tonight is 90 Day Fiance night. It’s our thing. It’s not all that often our stars align so she’s not got a shift at the hospital and I’m not hanging at Sam’s or doing theatre stuff. So when it happens it’s kind of a big deal. We queue up all the episodes we missed, grab some snacks and settle in for the night ready to dissect the catfish from the genuine commitment.

And it’s so dumb because I know Ma wouldn’t care if I came out to her. I just can’t find the words. And our area isn’t exactly Greenwich Village. There’s maybe a total of three guys who are out already at school and they get so much shit for it. There are a few girls too but it’s different for them. Guys think lesbians are hot. Then again, the reverse seems to be true too. I remember the first time Nat introduced me to the world of slash fiction. Let’s just say I never looked at the Bat Cave the same way again...

*****

  
  


So obviously I can’t avoid Brock forever. He tackles me the very next day as I’m heading to lunch. 

“Whatup Rogers, room for one more at your table?” He says significantly. I honestly didn’t think people that unironically said ‘whatup’ even existed. 

“Well, um, not really,” I reply. Our high school is like every other high school everywhere. Each group has their own table and never the twain shall meet. Unless, of course, you’re Brock Rumlow and your respect for the natural order of high school is zero. 

“I thought you were gonna, like, help me with the Peggy thing,” he raises an eyebrow and god help me I hate what he’s getting at. “But I mean if you don’t want to...”

Oh yeah. I forgot. I’m basically his bitch now. That’s a thing that’s happening.

“I want to help you, Brock,” I say, hating every single word. Then inspiration strikes. “But you’re going to have to be cool ok? If you come on too strong Peggy is going to run a mile,” I lie smoothly like I’m fucking Casanova or something. All hail the Master of Dating. 

He seems to accept this although I can feel his harsh stare as I make my way to the lunch table which, as a matter of fact, is a pretty damn awesome one to sit at. There’s me of course, and Nat and Sam and Peggy. Then there’s Sam’s fellow band nerds Bucky and Clint. Nat and Clint have known each other all their lives but Bucky’s only hung around our table in the last couple of years. He’s a quiet guy from Clint’s archery team and he recently joined the school band. 

I take my seat and Sam flicks a straw wrapper at me whilst Nat helps herself to Clint’s brownie. It suddenly occurs to me that I’ve got to act normal around these people despite what’s going down with Brock. Not only that, I’ve got to actually talk about him to Peggy and make him sound like he’s not a complete piece of shit. Nobody ever said life was simple.

  
  


*****

  
  


Another week passes by and I’m nowhere nearer to getting Peggy to like Brock. I haven’t talked about him at all and I certainly haven’t invited him to hang out. I’d like to report that I haven’t been hiding as much as possible in Sam’s basement but...yeah.

It’s stupid because it’s getting closer to the opening night of the play which means after school rehearsals have stepped up and I’ll be seeing Brock a hell of a lot more. He collars me as soon as I walk into the auditorium. 

“What’s the deal Rogers?” He demands. He’s dressed in his Artful Dodger costume so it’s a little off-putting to be given the stink eye by someone who looks like a charming Victorian ragamuffin. “You’ve been trying to avoid me”

“No way,” I protest as the kids playing the workhouse orphans start-up ‘Food Glorious Food’. 

“I’m not gonna show off those screenshots okay?” He says. Shots. Plural. The bastard. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised and I’m totally taking that with a grain of salt because I didn’t hear a word about deleting them. I’ve seen enough bad drama movies to know how this shit works. 

“I said I’d talk to Peggy,” I reply. “You need to give her time,” 

“Let’s swap numbers,” Brock says in a way that’s totally not a suggestion but a demand. I sigh and take my phone out of my pocket. I’m a second away from handing it over but even I don’t make the same mistake twice. 

He gives me his number and I give him mine before he’s called away to practice ‘Consider Yourself’. The only thing I’m considering right now is whether I save his contact info as ‘asshole’ or ‘fucking asshole’.

  
  


Peggy finds me a few minutes later. She’s wearing her Nancy costume which really shows off her curves. I swear to god when she’s doing her ‘Oom Pah Pah’ number all the men in a ten-mile radius stop what they’re doing to watch. I’m only playing one of Fagin’s boys so I’m not needed right now. She collapses in a chair next to me and rests her head on my shoulder. She’s smiling that serene smile of hers and her brown hair smells almost magical, sort of like cherries and vanilla. If I was straight I would a hundred per cent get the Peggy Thing and it’s not just to do with the accent. Brock is staring at us from the edge of the stage doing his best to look like he’s totally not staring at us.

“So I have my costume for Tony’s party tomorrow,” she says with a small smile. 

Tony Stark’s Halloween party. We only scored invites because there’s this weird connection between the jocks and the band geeks. Something to do with how amazing Sam can nail the AC/DC guitar solos which Tony, as the star of the football team, chooses to strut out onto the field to. 

I sigh heavily, already regretting what’s about to leave my mouth.

“Hey Brock,” I call over to him. “Are you coming to Tony’s party tomorrow?” I try to give him a significant look and I must pull it off because suddenly he’s beaming.

“Yeah man, text me the deets!” He calls back while doffing his battered top hat. 

Well. There’s no going back now.

  
  


*******

From: jasontoddstires@gmail.com

To: wintersoldier36@gmail.com

Subject: RE: This is Halloween, this is Halloween

  
  


Winter,

You really don’t dress up for Halloween??? It’s something I look forward to every year. The chance to be someone else for a day and hide behind a mask. I guess I shouldn’t tell you too much about this year’s costume though. 

My Ma always loved making my costumes. Every year she’d be at the craft store buying material and her work was pretty epic. One year she pulled off a perfect Jedi replica and I ended up winning my class’ costume competition. I felt so awesome walking around as Obi-Wan even if my beard kept falling off.

Oh and I’ll never forget the awesome Power Ranger suit she made me for my friend’s first Halloween party back in Elementary school. 

You’re REALLY not going to dress up???

Cap

  
  


From: wintersoldier36@gmail.com

To: jasontoddstires@gmail.com

Subject: RE: This is Halloween, this is Halloween,

Sorry to disappoint you Cap! 

I’ve never really been into the dressing up thing although, I have to say, you make a good case. Being someone else right now would be pretty good. 

When I was a little kid I was always Superman. I really liked the whole secret identity thing. I guess it makes sense as to why I like these emails. I mostly stay at home on Halloween. I actually kind of like being on door duty, doling out the candy to the trick or treaters. I have a reputation for being generous so we often run out pretty quickly.

Your Mom sounds majorly cool. I would’ve killed for a Power Ranger costume! Black Ranger all the way! Mastodons are badass. 

I’m kind of dying to know what your costume is this year. Although I know it’s not wise for you to tell me. I’ve decided you’ll be dressed up as Batman because he’s right up there along with mastodons on the scale of badassery. 

Still, enjoy your Halloween Cap! Don’t eat too much candy :P

Winter

  
  


*****

  
  


I definitely wasn’t lying to Winter. Halloween is one of my favourite holidays and when it falls on a Friday it’s pretty much a perfect combination. Everyone at school is hyped up and in the mood for fun. Even the teachers seem more chill. I’m not going all out for school so I just wear devil’s horns and tape a forked tail to the butt of my jeans but it’s great seeing everyone else’s costumes. 

  
  


Peggy comes home with me. She lives on the other side of town so it’s easier for her to hang at mine before Tony’s party. 

“So have you been to Tony’s house before?” She asks as soon as we’ve dumped our bags in the hallway and slid onto the stools in the kitchen. Ma is working the late shift tonight but she’s left me her Uber login details just in case and a plate of cookies on the kitchen table. Peggy and I start to devour them almost immediately.

“Yeah, he lives in the rich part of town,” I say. “I gotta warn you though, it’s going to be wall to wall jocks,” 

“Not much different from home then,” Peggy grins as she helps herself to another cookie. Her family are all pretty sporty apparently. I shoot a quick text to Fucking Asshole to make sure he’s still coming and can’t help but hate myself a little bit. 

“Hey, we should get into our costumes,” Peggy suggests. “We can answer the door to the trick or treaters. I’m so excited for my first American Halloween! I bet the children will love seeing us dressed up when we give them their sweets. Sorry, candy!” 

“I guess,” I shrug as Brock replies with a simple ‘heck yeah’. All caps. Five exclamation points. Seriously this guy. I’m surprised he hasn’t added the freaking eggplant emoji. 

“I’ve got a whole new costume,” Peggy says, leaping up from her stool. “Everyone has already seen the cat costume at school so I thought I’d go for something a bit different for the party,” 

“Same,” I reply. I grab my paper mâché Red Hood helmet from the kitchen counter and hold it aloft. I’ve been working on it all week and I’m pretty darn proud of it. 

“What’s that?” Peggy asks, pointing at the helmet.

“Oh my god I can’t with you,” I exclaim dramatically.

“Ah so it’s a Batman thing.”


	2. Chapter Two

Tony’s party is just what I expected. Sam earns a fist bump when we stroll through the door. There’s music playing, random laughter and bursts of conversation here and there. People are holding bottles that are definitely not soda. I don’t want to admit it to anyone but my idea of a party is a few people chilling out in a basement with some good junk food and just shooting the shit. I suppose I’m feeling out of my depth here amongst the jocks and their cheap beer. 

“So, what can I get you party animals to drink?” Tony asks as he appears as if from nowhere. He’s dressed as Zeus which totally makes sense for him. He really does think he’s a god. 

“Nope,” Nat says, popping the ‘p’. “I’m driving,” She adds with her best ‘couldn’t care less’ face. She’s worked out that the easiest way to get on Tony’s nerves is to act like he’s barely worth your time. She’s incredibly good at it. 

“I’ll have vodka and coke,” Peggy says which, of course, earns a side-eye from Nat. 

“Now you’re talking,” Tony replies complete with honest to god finger guns. “A vodka and coke for Hermione Granger. And you Rogers? A beer? Some of the old man’s finest whiskey?” 

“A beer’s good,” I say with a shrug. Catch me letting on that I’ve never actually tried the stuff before. Ma has always been concerned about teenage tearaways binge drinking. I guess it’s because she sees it all the time at the hospital. Still, it’s only a beer. It’s not like it’s going to turn me into a drunken wreck.

I take my Red Hood helmet off pretty quick because as accurate and artistic as it may be, it’s actually pretty uncomfortable and sweaty. Sam has already disappeared with some of the other band geeks in search of instruments. Which leaves me to deal with the slight tension between Nat and Peggy. We find ourselves a free patch of wall to lean against after Tony hands us our drinks.   
“Look,” Nat nods at the couch “The Flash is making out with Princess Leia,” 

“Who and who?” Peggy asks as she takes a sip of her drink and pulls a face. Yeah. Tony’s soda to alcohol ratio kind of leans heavily towards the alcohol. 

“Yeah...nevermind,” Nat says. I always forget how extra sarcastic she gets when she’s uncomfortable. This really isn’t her scene either but I get the feeling that she didn’t want to come here without Sam. 

A silence falls between us and if it were just me and Nat it would be totally fine. But because it’s Nat and Peggy it’s totally awkward. I’m actually starting to hope we see Brock soon. He’s nowhere to be seen, so maybe he’s actually taken my bullshit about leaving me to it on board? Seems doubtful somehow. 

Someone I do spot across the room is Bruce Banner. So I may not have mentioned this but I sort of have this quiet theory that he may be Winter. I’m not totally sure where it comes from. It’s just this weird feeling in my gut that pops up every time I see him. He’s really quiet and Winter has mentioned how he’s not really a social guy. And get this. Winter’s email address ends in the number 36. And he’s obsessed with Superman. 36 on the periodic table is Krypton. And Bruce just so happens to be one of the biggest science nerds in the school and wearing a Superman t-shirt now.

Ok, ok, so maybe that’s me just being insane. Lots of people pick random numbers for email addresses because the address they want is taken and Gmail suggests numbers on the end as an alternative. But sometimes when Bruce and I look at each other, it’s like we have this understanding. Like we just get each other and it’s totally unspoken. He’s also cute. Really, really cute.   
“Steve. Exactly how much have you had to drink?” Nat asks. She’s got one eyebrow raised. Oh god. I bet I was staring at Bruce for longer than is socially acceptable. 

“This beer” I say, which is actually pretty empty now. Turns out beer doesn’t taste that bad. It’s quite delicious in its own way. I’m feeling kind of relaxed and floaty. 

“I can’t even begin to tell you how extra you’re being right now,” Nat replies with her trademark smirk. It’s a cute smile. It really is. She’s cute. Peggy’s cute. We’re all cute and this is a great party. I grin at her and she rolls her eyes. 

“Hey there guys!” Oh god. It’s Brock. And he’s right in front of me. And he’s dressed as a hobo. Of course. At least I’m not tipsy enough to think he’s cute. “Nice costume,” he says to Peggy with what is obviously a practised wink. Dear god. No wonder he needs a wingman. He’s probably seconds away from asking her if she comes here often. “Can I get you another drink?” 

“No thank you,” Peggy replies. “I’m staying over at Steve’s tonight and I really don’t think Mrs Rogers wants to see me drunk,” 

“Oh,” Brock looks crestfallen. Maybe he was hoping she’d get drunk enough to want to kiss him or some shit. He’s that type of classy guy. God. That beer has gone straight to my head. Suddenly I feel like I’m saying all this stuff out loud. Nobody’s looking at me weirdly yet and Brock hasn’t pulled out his phone to show off the screenshots so I guess I’m good. 

“Hey look, people are dancing!” Peggy says. She’s really hyped up for her first Halloween in the US...

“Yay for people,” Nat mutters. 

“I could show you my sweet moves,” Brock tries again with a hint of puppy desperate to be noticed. 

“Sure!” And perhaps the vodka’s hit Peggy too because the next thing I know, she’s grabbing Brock by the hand and yanking him over to the area where a bunch of kids are bumping and grinding to some sort of autotune nonsense. The thing about Peggy is that she’s an amazing dancer. She’s beautiful and striking and you can’t keep your eyes off her. Brock is a total lumbering oaf so he ends up just kind of bobbing around beside her while she does her thing. 

“Oh god, this is awkward,” Nat says pityingly. “Do you think this could possibly be more awkward than when Sam’s aunt caught him-”

“Nothing could ever be as awkward as that but this is definitely up there,” I shake my head at the sight of Brock trying to keep up with Peggy. I guess I should be happy that he’s getting his hang out time in with her. And I did invite him to the party. Maybe this will count and he’ll drop the blackmail stuff and leave me alone for the rest of my days? Seems doubtful somehow. 

****

Nat drops Peggy and me off at Sam’s house. We hang around just long enough to snaffle some leftover Halloween candy before we take the five-minute walk to my place. It’s weird walking along with someone and not having the soothing sounds of the latest art-related podcast in my ear. But Peggy, as always, is great company, chatting excitedly about the party and laughing as she remembers something funny that happened. 

Ma’s still not home so we flop onto opposite ends of the couch and start trading bits of candy like we’re eight years old,   
“So Brock was talking to me after we danced,” Peggy says so casually that it throws me. In the past hour I’d actually allowed myself to forget about him. “I think he’s going to ask me to the homecoming dance,” She instinctively pushes all the Hershey’s Kisses my way because she’s awesome like that. 

“Really?” I realise I’m not sure which way I want this to go. Yeah Peggy and Brock hooking up would stop the whole Sam mooning over her situation but it would also mean that Peggy would be hooking up with Brock. 

“I think so,” She repeats. “He brought it up a couple of times but didn’t actually go as far as to ask me. It seemed like he was trying to though,” 

Of course. Seriously, as if I need anything else to confirm Brock is a total dunce when it comes to girls. 

“So how did that go?” I ask. 

“Well...he’s a nice guy,” Peggy says lamely, grabbing another mini cookies and cream bar from our stash. “But actually I’ve already been asked to the dance. Peter Quill asked me a couple of weeks ago,”  
“What? Really? Um...how did I not know that nugget of information?” Wow. Peter Quill. I had no idea. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him and Peggy exchange more than five words. He’s a hell of a lot nicer than Brock but still, way to come out of left field. I had no idea that she liked him. 

“I suppose I could have announced it on the school Tumblr,” Peggy teases. “Do you think you could do me a favour? You’re friends with Brock right? Maybe you could find a way to let him know about Peter? If I can avoid the whole him asking me just to get shot down, it’d be for the best,” 

“Uh, sure, yeah. I’ll see what I can do,” I replied while internally not trying to freak out. I’m torn because Peter Quill is a really great guy. He’s cute and funny and everything Peggy should have in a date. At the same time, I can’t see this development going down well with Brock and mine’s ‘agreement’. 

“You’re still boycotting it right?” Peggy grabs another mini bar and stuffs it into her mouth whole. “You, Sam and Nat?” 

“Yep,” I nod. Because that’s our way. When we started high school, Sam, Nat and I came to an agreement that school dances were completely lame and we vowed never to attend anything like that for the duration of high school. 

“You could ask Nat,” Peggy says quietly. 

“Wait. What? You...think I like Nat?” 

“Well, obviously you like her.” Peggy shrugs. “You’ve known her forever,” She teases again. “But yeah, I saw the two of you hanging out tonight while I was with Brock. You looked really cute together. Actually completely adorable. You’d make a great couple”

I guess we would be a good couple if I wasn’t gay. God. I really should tell Nat. I owe it to her and our friendship to be as open and honest as possible. Like Ma, she wouldn’t give a shit. In fact, she’d probably be over the moon. And hook me up with some more hot slash fics into the bargain. 

But I’m getting distracted again. I need to find out exactly where on Peggy’s Nope Scale that Brock exists. If he’s an ‘eh, he’s ok’ then maybe I still have a chance.   
“So what do you think of Brock anyway?” I ask, trying to sound as casual as possible even though I’m pretty sure my voice just leapt up a few octaves. 

“He’s ok,” Peggy shrugs. “He’s a nice guy.” Which doesn’t really tell me a whole lot.

“Do you ever think you’d be into him? To properly date?” I persist. “He’s a decent guy when you get to know him,” 

Peggy is saved by my Ma who clearly has the Worst Timing Ever. She bustles through the door still in her scrubs and with her stethoscope hanging around her neck. She looks completely exhausted so I’m guessing her shift was a rough one. 

We all make small talk for a little while until Ma’s head literally starts nodding in the armchair. We all go our separate ways for bed. Peggy’s spending night in the spare room which is actually kind of hilarious because Sam’s been sleeping over in my bed for years. I collapse onto the mattress, not even shedding the remnants of my costume. My fingers itch to send Winter a quick email but I’m still feeling kind of keyed up from the party. Since I’m not the party going type I’m surprised I enjoyed it as much as I did. I’m also kind of shook that I had a beer. I can totally imagine that Tony and all the jocks think I’m wet for stopping at just the one but I’m never going to be that dudebro party type.

I don’t even know why I didn’t tell Ma. I know she wouldn’t be bothered. She gave me all the standard binge drinking lectures and she knows I’ll be responsible. I guess I just don’t really want to start a dialogue about it. Ma is the best parent I could wish for and she works so freaking hard for us but, at the same time, she’s also involved. Really involved. I remember telling her about that first girlfriend and, before I knew it, she’d found her in one of my old yearbooks. She’d wanted to know it all. How we met, who asked who out and exactly how I felt about her. 

It was kind of weird but it felt almost like coming out. And it feels like I come out all the time. Every time something changes about me it’s like I have to come out all over again. It’s not even about being gay anymore. I know nobody would really care apart from a handful of assholes at school I don’t give two shits about. Ma would be fine. Sam would be fine. Nat would love it. But it all feels relentless. So tiring. So I try not to change and yet the exact opposite happens. I come out all the freaking time. 

And yeah. One beer has made me this introspective. 

****

From: wintersoldier36@gmail.com  
To: jasontoddstires@gmail.com  
Subject: RE: This is Halloween, This is Halloween

Cap, 

I hope you had a great Halloween and that everyone appreciated your costume for its artistic genius. I had a quiet one, barely any trick or treaters so obviously that meant I got to sit with the candy dish and devour its contents. It’s the law y’know? 

So Homecoming will soon be upon us. I’m not going to lie, I actually enjoy it. Yeah, yeah, I can feel the waves of judgement radiating off you! You probably wouldn’t expect me to be into that kind of thing. There’s just something about the atmosphere. I’m not Mr School Spirit or anything but it always feels like something could happen like there’s mystery and possibility in the air. It’s intoxicating in its own way. It’s something about the combination of floodlights and the gathering of the crowd, all united in one common goal. It’s easy to get swept up by the ceremony of it all. 

I’m talking about the football game of course. I’m definitely not going to the dance. That’s a bit too social for my liking. 

Do you have any plans this weekend? 

Winter

From: jasontoddstires@gmail.com  
To: wintersoldier36@gmail.com  
Subject: RE: This is Halloween, This is Halloween, 

I feel so sorry for you, stuck at home with that bowl of candy! Although, you didn’t actually mention what that candy was. Hopefully it was a bowl full of Kisses. Because, as we all know, Kisses are the most divine chocolate in the world. Actually better than sex. 

My Halloween was good I guess. I’m trying hard not to tell you too much and name names for obvious reasons. Let’s just say I went to A Guy’s party with my friends. It was fun but not really my thing. I know I should try to convince you that I’m some hard-partying guy but I think you’d see through it in a minute! But yeah, it was an experience and that’s what they’re always saying high school is about. 

You totally reminded me, with your talk of Homecoming and Mr School Spirit that School Spirit week is upon us! Monday’s going to be 1930s day. At least, I think it’s Monday? I guess I better check with someone just in case it’s actually Superhero day and I make an ass of myself. So do you think you’ll be dressing up? I know you said you’re not Mr School Spirit but I think it’s kind of fun. Now I’m wondering if you do dress up, what you’re going to wear. I mean, I could ask but I know you’re not going to answer that one. 

Cap

From: wintersoldier36@gmail.com  
To: jasontoddstires@gmail.com  
Subject: RE: Kisses and sex

Huh. Hershey’s Kisses are better than sex you say? Personally, I wouldn’t know but I’m hoping you’re wrong. You should probably just stop having all that heterosexual sex Cap. Just saying. 

And yes, you got it in one regarding School Spirit Week and the costumes. I’m not going to say a word about whether or not I’m going to be dressing up and what I’ll be dressing up as. I’ll level with you for a second here Cap. I’m the type of guy who always knows what he wants to say and do in any given situation but, for some reason, I always find myself holding back and putting up these walls. That’s why I don’t want you knowing what I’m thinking of dressing up as. Or whether I’m going to be one of the handfuls of students who doesn’t show up in costume. I really don’t want you going all Batman detective on me and figuring out who I am. 

I’m not exactly sure what we’re doing here but whatever it is, I don’t think it would work if we knew who the other one is. I mentioned that I don’t open myself up very easily and yet I’ve told you a lot of stuff that I wouldn’t dream of telling anyone else. It’s easier to open up to a person behind a screen. And yeah, I have to admit you make it even easier and that means it’s all the more scary. Nobody has gotten through my walls like you do and it’s terrifying.

I really hope this doesn’t make you feel bad. I know you were probably just joking about the dressing thing and not asking me about it but, I don’t know, I’m just covering my bases here in case it wasn’t entirely a joke? 

I’m not going to lie though. I think about who you really are too. 

Winter

*****

It’s Superhero Day at school. When I was a sophomore it used to be gender bender day but then the school board realised how offensive that was and changed it up and yeah, maybe I had something to do with that petition and lobbied the hell out of it.

So everyone is dressed up and, as a comic book nerd, it’s pretty darn awesome. I’ve reused my Red Hood costume from Halloween but sans helmet since it was awkward as hell. I’m a bit annoyed that my hair is blonde but there was no time to source a black wig. Hopefully, people get the reference anyway. 

We’re all sitting in English class and there’s a festive atmosphere in the air. Everyone’s trying to guess who Sam, Clint and Bucky are dressed up as. They’re all wearing t-shirts. Sam’s is red, Clint’s is green and Bucky’s is blue. The professor suggested Alvin and the Chipmunks but half the class didn’t even know who they were. I guess kids today aren’t up on their classic cartoons. Sam and Clint are laughing like drains, mocking everyone for not getting their ‘totally obvious’ costume. Bucky’s quieter, sitting back in his seat and smiling. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever heard Bucky speak unless he’s directly spoken to first. He’s really quiet and meant to be really smart. He’s always been on the edge of our group, in the background. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed it before but he’s actually kind of cute. I’m trying to remember what instrument he plays. I want to say drums but I’m not sure. I don’t actually know all that much about him really. 

Peggy hurries into the classroom, late as ever. Between all her student council stuff, the play and the millions of extracurricular stuff she does there’s always a good reason for her to be late. I’m pretty sure it royally pisses Nat off that she gets away with it all the time. 

As soon as she lays eyes on Sam, Clint and Bucky she grins widely.   
“I loved Ducktales when I was a child!” 

Clint lets out a raucous cheer and Sam beams at her. I catch Nat rolling her eyes. The class erupts with cries of protestation that Huey, Dewey and Louie aren’t superheroes as Clint staunchly defends his costume idea by saying they’re in comic books so it counts. The classroom door opens again and there’s Brock. Everyone instantly shuts up and stares at him. He’s gone all out this year and is dressed head to toe in a Robin costume, Dick Grayson short shorts and all. If I didn’t hate him right now, I’d be impressed at how dead on the costume is. Maybe I’d even be a little turned on but I can’t help but see it as a sly dig at me. At how my secret email address is related to Batman.

“Looking hot Rumlow,” One of the jocks at the back of the room calls out. Brock gives him a supercilious wink and gives his short clad ass a little shake. I guess he’s not above whoring himself out for a cheap laugh which isn’t surprising really. I’ve literally never heard of a theatre geek being so loved by jocks. I mean, they do like to tease him and all but there’s always a light-heartedness to it. Almost like he’s their mascot. 

“You’re going to need a late pass Mr Rumlow,” The professor says. I don’t even look at Nat because I know that she’s thinking about how Peggy gets away with it all the time. 

Brock gives his ass another little wiggle and sashays out of the room. 

****

The final theme for Friday is music. Each year has been given a specific genre. We’ve been cursed (or blessed depending on your taste) with country and western. Since I don’t really own that much that would be considered country, I’m wearing a red bandana and I’ve dug out an old plaid shirt. 

Lunch is pretty hilarious, seeing all the other years dressed up. The freshmen are representing emo which basically just amounts to a whole load of black and eyeliner. The sophomores are 80’s which is the total opposite, a riot of neon colours. The best by far are the juniors who are representing classic rock. People have gone all out this year on the huge teased wigs, leather jackets and biker boots. 

I take a seat at our usual table and notice that Brock is sitting at the next one. Speaking of going all out, he’s dressed in denim overalls, one strap hanging off his shoulder, and he’s honest to god chewing on a large piece of hay. There’s even a large jug on the table. He tries to catch my eye but, reflexively, I look away. It’s sort of become a habit. I take my seat between Nat and Clint who are currently involved in some kind of ‘discussion’. 

“So you really haven’t heard of Rodney Atkins?” Clint asks incredulously. 

“I really haven’t,” Nat fires back with that kind of bored tone she reserves for Clint. It’s a shame that she’s so crazy over Sam. I really think that her and Clint would make a great couple. They bounce off of each other perfectly and I swear they have a chemistry they’re both totally unaware of.

“I need to make you a playlist,” Clint offers. 

“Yeah, don’t.” Nat responds with yet another of her perfect eye rolls. Clint gives her the cheesiest grin back and gets started on his lunch.   
“Hey,” Sam sits down opposite us. “I’ve been thinking, how about we go to the Homecoming game tonight?” 

“Um, what?” Nat demands. “You’re joking right?” 

Sam just gives her a look. 

“We always hang out in the basement during Homecoming,” She protests. Her lips are locked into a tight straight line and I always get a little scared when she pulls that face. Sam usually does too but this time, he doesn’t seem rattled. The whole table goes quiet waiting for what’s about to come. And I start to feel bad because I realise that, actually, I’m not against going to the game. At all. 

“I’ll go,” I say. I remember Winter’s email about Homecoming and how he likes it and feels like anything could happen. I know he’s going to be there and even though I have no clue who he is, apart from my theory about Bruce, I have to go. I really like the thought of being somewhere and knowing that Winter is there too. 

“Really?” Nat asks incredulously. I can feel her icy glare but I’m doing my best to focus on Sam instead. I’m trying hard not to feel like I’m throwing her under the bus. 

“I mean, don’t you think that’s kind of an overreaction? I think-” Sam starts to say.

“I don’t care what you think,” Nat snaps. Clint laughs nervously. 

“What did I miss?” Peggy asks, appearing as if from nowhere. She sits down next to Sam and he looks at her. He sort of looks like he’s blushing. 

“Nothing,” He replies. I can practically feel the rage radiating off Nat as she stares at him. 

“Okay,” Peggy shrugs. She’s dressed in full-on cowgirl regalia. Boots, hat and all. “So who’s going to the Homecoming game tonight?” 

Nat stands up calmly, pushes her chair in and stalks out of the cafeteria without a word. 

****

The whole Homecoming thing is totally new to me. The game itself starts at seven-thirty and before then there’s a parade. I walk over to Sam’s and we drive back to school together.   
“We’re totally on Nat’s shit list,” I say as we turn into the school’s parking lot and start the hunt for a parking space. Apparently these Homecoming games are pretty popular social events. Who knew? 

“She’ll be fine,” Sam says as he spies a space and speeds up to get to it before anyone else does. “Man it’s crowded,” 

Once we’re parked, we make the trek across the school to the football field. I’ve never really noticed before but the stadium lights are actually really cool. They’re so bright and all that light really does make everything feel magical. I can see why Winter loves it now. I’m wondering if he’s already here, somewhere in the crowd that’s milling around. Maybe he’s settling into a seat, or grabbing a hot dog. Some of the school band are there, playing a mixture of music from the genres of Spirit Week. It feels like anything could happen and, despite still feeling bad about Nat, I can’t help but get swept up in it all. 

“Guys!” Peggy is upon us, giving us both hugs and yet again, Sam blushes again. “Do you want to walk in the parade with me?” 

Sam and I glance at each other for a second. He looks just as caught up in all of this as I am. We both nod and end up following Peggy all the way over to the staff parking lot. The student council have clearly been working overtime on the senior class float. They’ve continued the country and western theme, setting up bales of hay and making streamers out of knotted together bandanas. The whole thing is adorned with Christmas lights. For someone who’s really not into school spirit, it really does look awesome and it’s pretty cool to see the effort that’s gone into it.

Peggy dashes here and there making sure everything is just so. It’s crazy how she only joined the school at the start of the year and already she’s in the thick of it. People love her. She’s helping some of the cheerleaders knot up their plaid shirts and fussing with three guys in overalls who are pretending to be a jug band. 

“More volunteers?” Suddenly Sam and I are accosted by Pepper. She’s a member of the student council and a senior like us. I don’t really know all that much about her except she’s currently the object of Tony’s affections and is super smart and is going on to do business at Yale. “You all need to cheer really loud ok?” She continues, addressing everyone. “They’re judging us on our school spirit and we want to make sure we beat the other years so loud and proud! Make sure you’re all smiling!” 

Everyone takes their places thanks to her supreme organisation. Sam and I end up bringing up the rear of the float with a bunch of other seniors. The flatbed truck pulls out of the parking lot and behind the junior’s float which is a homage to classic rock, all-metal and leather and a group of juniors pretending to be a hair metal band. Pepper starts up a round of ‘yee-haws’ when she feels like we’re all getting a little too quiet. 

The parade makes its way around a couple of nearby blocks before pulling into the school grounds again and circling the track around the football field. The stadium lights are shining down on us, the music is loud and people are cheering at the tops of their voices. It’s so incredibly high school and I can’t believe that Sam and I are a part of it. I feel like I should probably say something about how ironic our appearance is or make some kind of ridiculous comment but I’m honestly enjoying every second of it. I’m feeling like I’m part of something and it’s pretty cool. 

Once the parade is over, Sam and I make our way over to the bleachers to find some spare seats. They’re almost completely packed and all the faces make it hard to find anyone that we recognise. Sam suddenly points when he recognises some of his fellow band geeks just as I spy some of the other theatre kids. We break apart and I head over to the bleachers and realise that Bruce is part of the theatre kid crowd. I can’t help but smile. I knew that he was going to be here tonight. 

I decide to be bold and tap Bruce on the shoulder. He turns around and offers me that cute smile of his.   
“Hey Steve!”

“Do you mind if I sit with you guys?” I ask, hoping that I’m not blushing like Sam seems to do around Peggy. 

“Sure!” He says happily and scooches down the bench a little so I can sit beside him. There’s plenty of room and I briefly think it’s a shame that I won’t be pressed up close to him. Some of the other kids look like they’re almost sitting on each other’s laps. Hell, some of the couples are. His eyes flick back to the field and I wrack my brains, desperately trying to think of a conversation starter. Luckily, Bruce picks up my slack. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at a game before,” 

Bruce always makes eye contact when he talks to you and those deep brown eyes of his are pretty devastating. I’m not exactly an expert but I’m pretty sure it’s a good sign that he notices that I’m usually missing from these things. 

“Oh it’s my first time,” I say and immediately cringe internally. I think, as far as virgin sounding things go, that one tops the list. I swear I’m much cooler in writing that I am in person. I hope I don’t mess this up. 

“Cool,” He says calmly. That’s the thing with Bruce. He’s always so calm. Just talking with him feels like you’re stepping into a sea of serenity. I guess that’s why Ms Parker chose him as our stage manager. “I always try to make it to Homecoming,” 

I’m trying not to read too much into that. I really am. But I can’t help it. I know, logically, he’s saying it because, duh, we’re at Homecoming. But it also feels significant. Like he’s giving me a clue. I really want to ask him something that I know I shouldn’t. Maybe give him a little clue back, like say how I wish I had some Hershey’s Kisses to snack on just to see what his reaction would be. But something’s holding me back. If Bruce really is Winter and I say something, he’s going to know that I’m Captain America and while I’ve spent many hours fantasising about a moment like this, when it comes down to it, I don’t think I’m ready no matter how curious I am to see if my theory is right. 

“Whatup!” 

And, oh god, of course. Brock is here. He perches himself right on the edge of the bench and by the way he’s ignoring the goings-on of the football field, he’s gearing up for a conversation. Almost instantly that magical feeling dissipates. “So I talked to Peggy,” he says, sounding casual enough. But then he lets out a heavy sigh. “I asked her to the dance actually. And she shot me down,” 

“Gee, sorry Brock, that, uh, sucks,” I flail because I’m still torn over the Brock and Peggy thing. I guess I know in my heart of hearts they’d never work out. She’s so far out of his league. 

“So, like, did you know she was already going with someone else?” He asks me with one raised eyebrow. The casual tone is still there but I don’t like what his expression is implying. 

“Uh, yeah...actually...I, uh, think she mentioned it? Sorry,” I really definitely should’ve gotten around to telling Brock about the Peter Quill thing. But, y’know, that would mean actually talking to Brock and I’ve been avoiding him like the plague. 

“You really should give me a heads up next time,” Brock says. “Y'know, so I don’t like, embarrass myself like that,” He adds. He actually looks pretty sad now and for a moment I forget that he’s a blackmailing asshole and I start to feel sorry for him. Being shot down by your crush is a shitty feeling. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if Winter suddenly gave me the cold shoulder.

“I don’t think they’re dating or anything,” I say as an attempt at salvaging things.

“Whatever,” He shrugs. He looks totally miserable. It feels like he’s giving up and I’m wondering whether that means he’s giving up on Peggy. And if he is, what does that mean for those screenshots?


	3. Chapter 3

From: jasontoddstires@gmail.com  
To: wintersoldier36@gmail.com  
Subject: RE: HERSHEY’S KISSES THO

Winter, 

Ok but Hershey’s Kisses should be a food group in their own right. They should actually be the biggest part of the food pyramid and I’ll tell you why. They’re absolutely delicious and come in so many different flavours it’s pretty much impossible to ever get bored of them! (Although Candy Cane is the supreme flavour and I’ll give props to the new lava cake ones as a close second).

Did I tell you that when I was little my Ma always used to put a bag of Kisses in my Christmas stocking? It was one of our traditions. Another one was that we would each tell a story on Christmas Eve. 

I remember one Christmas Eve, I made up this story for her about a boy who gets to live in a place called Kissland. Everything is made of Hershey’s Kisses. The sea is a giant milkshake made up of melted hot cocoa flavour kisses, when it snows in the winter it snows candy cane flavoured ones…...I know, I know. I was probably just on a major sugar high at the time and it made zero sense to Ma but she entertained it for over half an hour. I guess she was probably relieved I was too busy telling her the story to keep nagging her about opening my presents early. I thought it was a work of literary genius. 

Anyway, I’ll totally let the whole thing slide. You obviously didn’t realise that you were in the midst of a connoisseur. 

Cap

From: wintersolider36@gmail.com  
To: jasontoddstires@gmail.com  
Subject: RE: HERSHEYS KISSES THO

Cap,

You caught me. I had no idea I was talking to the world expert. I think Kissland sounds pretty amazing. I’m pretty certain at this point that you have a major sweet tooth. So Professor Cap, exactly how many Kisses should a healthy guy like me be consuming on a daily basis? 

Winter

From: jasontoddstires@gmail.com  
To: wintersoldier36@gmail.com  
Subject: RE: HERSHEYS KISSES THO

I get the impression Winter that you’re not taking this seriously. You need to be totally committed to the Kisses Diet or you won’t see any results at all. It’s a very easy regime to follow which means there’s no excuses. In fact, you can actually work Kisses into every one of your meals. They’re extremely versatile such is the wonder of the Greatest Confection. 

Breakfast - Garnish your cereal with Kisses. If you can get chocolate cereal like Oreo Os they go together really well. Especially if you get the cookies and cream flavour.

Lunch - Make sure to always have a side of Kisses with your sandwich. Also put some in your sandwich. What else is in it? Doesn’t matter. Kisses go with everything. Fact.

Snack - A handful of Kisses. Duh. Three times daily. If you want to go for more then it’s highly encouraged.

Dinner - Concoct a pizza using melted Kisses as the sauce, garnish with different flavoured Kisses for a taste combination. You can also melt some Kisses into hot milk for a delicious drink to go with it. 

This is all for the good of your health Winter. And god, it’s making me so hungry typing it all out! I used to fantasise about candy so much when I was a kid. I swear I used to think about it every few minutes. I guess that’s what we think about before we realise sex is a thing. 

Cap

From: wintersoldier36@gmail.com  
To: jasontoddstires@gmail.com  
Subject: RE: HERSHEYS KISSES THO

Cap, 

I do apologise for not taking the diet seriously before. I will now and I know my body and mind are going to thank me for it. 

I’m not surprised it made you hungry. Kisses are delicious. That dessert pizza actually sounds pretty tasty although I doubt my teeth would appreciate it. As for the hot chocolate thing? I have a confession to make. I actually can’t drink the stuff now. There was an ‘incident’ when I was younger. Let’s just say kids who drink a large hot chocolate shouldn’t immediately go on the tilt-a-whirl right afterwards. The trip to Coney Island was never the same again for my Dad after that. 

Speaking of Coney Island, I heard that there’s going to be a school celebration there once the theatre kids are done with Oliver Twist. Childhood vomiting stories aside, I really love that place. There’s something about it. I think because it’s been there for so long. I like to walk around it and imagine how many people’s stories are caught up in its history. I imagine a pair of sweethearts in the 1940s, sharing a hotdog and a ride on The Cyclone before one of them ships out in the morning. It always makes me wonder if I’ll have a story there to share one day.

But I digress...

I like the idea of little kid Cap fantasizing about junk food. It’s cute. I also like the idea of you fantasising about sex now. That’s hot, And I can’t believe that I’m about to hit send…

Winter

*****

So. Winter fantasises about me having sex. That’s an actual thing that’s happening. If I was going to pick a time to read that email I’m glad that I chose my bedroom late at night because the idea of Winter thinking about me having sex? Well, it’d be rude not to return the favour. 

I start thinking about what would happen if we did meet up in person. Would we try to make idle conversation first or would it be too hard to hold back? I start to picture it and it all comes to me so easily. It would be here. In my room. We’re all alone and he’s looking at me with those gorgeous deep brown eyes. Bruce’s eyes. I cup his cheek and that’s all he needs to know. He’s kissing me. My left hand is caressing my cheek, I rub my thumb against my lip while my right hand slides down, down, down…

I’m cupping myself. His kisses feel nothing like the ones I’ve had before. He’s forceful and, oh god, it’s like I’ve left planet Earth. I’m high. So high, up in the stratosphere and my whole body feels electric. It’s getting hard to think. My head feels fuzzy and my heart is pounding like a jackhammer in my chest. His tongue is in my mouth now, his hand between my legs and it’s just so right, it feels so fucking good. God. Winter! 

My whole body melts. 

*****

Monday is my birthday. Nat accosts me as I’m heading into school. She jams something into my hand. I look down and see that she’s framed a picture that she’s drawn. Of me. Dressed as Jason Todd, just like Halloween but way cooler. She’s given me the white streak in my hair because she knows just how much I love Jason’s white streak and how I think it’s criminal recent comic book iterations of him don’t have it. She’s drawn me side by side with Roy Harper because she knows that him and Jason are my forever OTP. I turn it over and on the back, she’s written

Happy Birthday, Steve.  
You’re fucking old.

I may have mentioned this before but I love Nat. I grin at her. She’s a truly amazing artist and I think it’s a crime she’s not pursuing it any further than a hobby. I tried telling her to sell her stuff on Etsy but she never does.   
“Nat this is amazing,”

“Yeah, well,” she shrugs and tries her best to look cool in spite of the blush creeping across her cheeks. “We’re cool ok? Sorry, I over-reacted about the Homecoming thing,” 

****

At lunch, there’s a cake waiting for me at our table. It’s my favourite. Double chocolate fudge but with vanilla buttercream icing because Nat knows I find chocolate icing on chocolate cake sickly. Only Sam and I know that Nat is the one who bakes the cakes for our squad’s birthdays and we’re sworn to secrecy on pain of death. 

Peggy hands me one of those huge birthday badges and I fix it to my shirt with pride. Everyone else is wearing various party hats. Clint’s got a pirate hat on while Sam is wearing a comically tiny bowler hat. Nat’s slicing the cake and making sure everyone’s got a piece, handing them out on paper plates decorated with little Batman symbols. And, of course, suddenly our little squad of nerds has become the most popular table in the cafeteria. People are shameless when it comes to cake. 

I’m tucking into my second piece when I see Brock approach Peggy. I guess he isn’t letting the whole Peter Quill thing stop him after all. I can’t hear what they’re saying but she starts laughing so I guess he’s laying on his version of charm. That’s the thing about Brock. Apart from the fact that he’s a fucking asshole, he’s actually pretty funny when he wants to be. He takes a couple of party hats from the table and straps them to his head like horns. Peggy hands him some cake with a wink.

And then suddenly Bruce is sitting in front of me. He grins at me. He’s got a little smear of icing at the corner of his mouth and he looks all kinds of adorable,  
“Happy Birthday,” he says warmly.

God I want to reach over and help him with that icing. 

“What are you doing to celebrate?”he asks. I swallow and flail a little. I really don’t want to admit that I’ll be spending the rest of my birthday checking my Facebook for birthday messages while I listen to Spotify and think about Winter. Who I may or may not be making an epic playlist for. 

“Yeah, my Ma likes to get me a cake and we decorate it together,” I say. Which is true enough. It’s a Rogers birthday tradition. “Probably with a million Hershey’s Kisses,” I add at the last minute. Because I just have to, 

“Nice,” he says. “Sounds good,” 

Okay. Not really reacting to the Kisses thing but that doesn’t exactly mean anything.

“Well, have fun!” He says as he stands up. Just for a moment, before he leaves, he puts his hand on my shoulder. It happens so quickly that I can’t quite believe it. But it happened. It really did.

Did I mention how totally amazing birthdays are? 

****

From: jasontoddstires@gmail.com  
To: wintersoldier36@gmail.com  
Subject: OMG so tired…

OMG Winter. I’m tired. So freaking tired. I feel like everything hurts. Not in that, ‘oh I’m getting sick way’ but in that bone-tired kind of way. I’m having one of those nights where my brain just won’t shut off no matter what I do. So, here I am, at 3 in the morning writing to you. I’m going to apologise in advance for any random rambling and terrible grammar that this email may contain. You’re one of the best writers I know so I always make sure to read through everything I send before I actually send it. 

School has been all kinds of crazy lately although I will admit today was pretty amazing. I wish I could tell you why but that would definitely be giving stuff away. I know I’m going to be shuffling around in a total daze at school tomorrow and I’m pretty sure that I have six quizzes in the next couple of days so sleeping would be wise at this point. Yet here I am. 

I was thinking that there should totally be one of those cheesy dating shows where you get to meet your love match but in complete darkness. We should do that don’t you think? Just find a room that’s all dark, maybe the photography room, and then we could hang out together in person and it would be one hundred percent anonymous without running the risk of ruining anything. What do you think?

Cap

From: wintersoldier36@gmail.com  
To: jasontoddstires@gmail.com  
Subject: RE: OMG I’m tired…

Cap, 

I’m really sorry that you’re almost certainly guaranteed a crappy day today. I hope that you managed to get some shut-eye even if it was just a couple of hours. Although I will admit that you’re very cute and endearing when you’re utterly exhausted. You were actually very coherent for three o'clock in the morning! Way more than I would be at that time let me tell you. 

Try not to freak out over those quizzes. You got this. Power through and trust in yourself and know that I’m rooting for you all the way. 

While your dating the dark idea was charming, I don’t really think it would work. What would happen if we recognised each other’s voices?

Winter

From: jasontoddstires@gmail.com  
To: wintersoldier36@gmail.com  
Subject: RE: OMG I’m tired…

I haven’t even read what I wrote to you last night! I don’t think I dare. I’m glad to hear that I was endearing and cute though. I think you’re very endearing and cute too. I’m not sure where the whole dating in the dark idea came from. Probably had a little bit too much sugar yesterday which would explain the not being able to sleep part too. I’m sorry you were at the receiving end! 

Oh God Winter, I’m so completely brain dead. My brain is just mush at this point. I’m going to try and stay calm and not worry too much about how I did on today’s quizzes. 

It’s a really good point about the voices. But! I think I’ve found a way around it! We’d have to use those voice changer toys. You know, like those ones that are meant to make you sound like Chewbacca or Darth Vader? 

I mean, there’s also the option where we don’t actually do any talking at all…

Cap

****

I head straight to rehearsal after my last class and immediately see Peggy. She’s sitting on one of the chairs by the stage. She’s got her script with her and she’s muttering to herself as she runs through it, occasionally pausing to make a quick note. Ms Parker has told us we can hand the scripts in at the end of the semester and our notes will make up part of our final grade. Consequently, everyone’s been furiously scribbling away on their copies.   
“Hey!” I say as I take a seat beside her. “Working on your lines?” 

“Yes,” She nods. She folds down the corner of the page she was on and closes it. There’s something a little off about her. Peggy always sounds pretty clipped because of her accent but now she looks stiff too. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Fine,” She replies with another nod. She lets out a little sigh. “Just rather stressed,” She admits. I know she’s playing it down. It’s that British reserve. “Did you know that, as of today, we only have a month until we’re supposed to be rehearsing without the script?” 

“Yeah, but you’ll be fine Peg,” 

“Oh, that’s easy for you to say, Steve.” She replies with another sigh. “You don’t even have any lines,” There’s a beat as she pauses. She shakes her head. “That was horribly bitchy of me,” 

“Super bitchy,” I say with a grin. “And totally unexpected, you’re like a Secret Agent bitch, totally stealthy,” 

“What did you just call her?” Suddenly Brock is upon us. I swear that guy just has an innate ability to appear as if from nowhere. He also has the ability to insert himself into any given conversation even if he’s got the wrong end of the stick. 

“We were just having fun Brock,” Peggy says gently. 

“He called you a bitch,” He says, glaring at me. “That’s totally not okay,” 

Yep. Brock is seriously doing this right now. He’s inserted himself into a conversation and he’s getting pissed over the contents without knowing the context. And yes, he’s about to lecture me on my choice of language. Him. Brock. The blackmailer. But it’s cool Brock. Whatever. Tear someone down just to make yourself look good. He definitely deserves to take the moral high ground in this situation. Not. 

“I called myself a bitch too,” Peggy continues with a smile. “We were just blowing off some steam,” 

“Well, okay,” Brock grunts, trying to remain cool but I can see that he’s going red. He’s fiddling with the strap of his backpack. He’s really going about this impressing Peggy thing in the wrong way. He should probably try not being completely awkward every time he’s around her. 

I mutter a quick apology because he’s still staring at me. His isn’t the only face that’s burning right now. I quickly stand up and hurry over to the stage and hope that it’s time to join the rest of Fagin’s Boys but the only people currently up on stage is Phil Coulson, who’s playing Oliver and the kid playing Mr Bumble so I guess I won’t be needed for a while. 

I spot Bruce in the wings making notes. He looks up and catches me looking. He smiles at me and, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but his smile is seriously cute. It’s the type that would always look good in a selfie. I’m still feeling pretty gross about the Brock conversation but that smile alone is enough to start making me feel better. I hurry into the wings.   
“Hey,” I say, quietly, because Mr Bumble has started up the Boy For Sale song. 

“Hey there,” Bruce replies. His eyes are on the performance. He’s really committing to this stage manager role. Ms Parker has told him that he needs to make sure that, on the night, everything runs smoothly. I have to say, he looks really cute in that headset and with his clipboard. 

“Are we...supposed to be doing anything right now?” I ask and, oh god, that sounds totally awkward. I mean it could be worse. I could have used I instead of we which would’ve made me sound like a clueless freshman but there’s also something a little...propositional about it? Still, if Bruce reads anything into it, he’s not showing it.   
“No, Ms Parker just wanted a run-through of Boy For Sale to make sure Mr Bumble knows his steps. After that, I think she’s going to call a group meeting,” 

“Sounds good,” I say. I really want to say anything else. Maybe make another Kisses reference but, without the magic of my birthday, it’s harder to get the words out. Instead, I settle for standing next to him while he watches and continues to take notes of the performance. After three excruciating minutes, Ms Parker calls him over to go through what he’s written. I’m totally ready for this shitty day to be over. 

The cherry on top of the shit sundae is that, on my way home, I spot Nat’s beat-up old car pulling out of Sam’s driveway. I know that Nat and Sam hang out together when I’m not around but it still gives me a weird feeling. Like I’m irrelevant. 

****

From: wintersoldier36@gmail.com  
To:jasontoddstires@gmail.com  
Subject: I should be…

Doing some homework but I’m writing to you. And I have a confession to make.

Your email address has intrigued me for a while so I consulted Google and learnt that Jason Todd is from the Batman comics. I feel a bit stupid not realising that considering I’m a big Superman fan but I’ve never really read that many Batman comics. Especially not ones focusing on him. I never realised there was a Robin after Dick Grayson and that he died and came back to life. And became a vigilante. And has a complicated relationship with Bruce Wayne...yeah you could say I fell down a bit of a rabbit hole.

I hope you don’t mind but I went on Amazon and bought a trade paperback of Under The Hood. I’m excited for it to arrive! Reading about Jason from fan wikis and stuff made me feel closer to you. Like I could actually imagine you sitting in your bedroom reading the same things or hell, even writing some of them! 

And yeah, I have a second confession to make. Since I found out about all this, I’ve been checking out guys in the school hallways to see if they’re wearing Red Hood t-shirts. Or even Batman shirts. Turns out a lot of kids at our school wear Batman-related stuff. That logo is everywhere. It’s also really unfair for me, trying to figure out your secret identity when I’m giving nothing away about my own. 

I can give you something. This weekend my Dad is driving in from Indiana. We’re going to celebrate Hanukkah together. It’s a family tradition. Every year he drives up to New York and we spend the holiday in his hotel room. Will it be awkward? Most definitely. I always give him something that seems like a total cop-out choice like some premium coffee or a cheesy mug (he has so many at this point) and then he’ll give me all 8 gifts in one go which, don’t get me wrong, I’m always grateful for but it also reminds me that I won’t be seeing him again until New Year.

And here’s the thing Cap, I’m considering using this visit to come out to him. Am I being crazy? 

Winter

From: jasontoddstires@gmail.com  
To: wintersoldier36@gmail.com  
Subject: RE: I should be…

Winter,

How did I not know that you’re Jewish? I feel like it’s something important I should know about you so thank you for giving me that particular clue.

I hope that your Hanukkah goes well. I don’t think the coffee and mug would be a cop-out choice at all! If your Dad likes them it shows you’re putting thought into it. I actually might have to steal your idea because I think my Ma would dig a cheesy mug. 

But let’s focus on the most important thing here. I don’t think you’re crazy for wanting to come out to your Dad. Have you thought about how you’re going to tell him? And if you’re going to tell your Ma too? Are you worried about how they’ll react? 

I’m really flattered that Googled my email address and found out about the Wonder That Is Jason Todd. You’ll really enjoy Under The Hood. If you can, you should try to track down The Lost Days too. That deals with Jason’s in-between time just after his resurrection and before Under The Hood. If you want something darker there’s Death In The Family which deals with Jason’s death. Ugh. Sorry I could go on forever about the Bat-Family. I’m your guy if you want recs! 

I don’t like to admit this to you Winter but it’s actually a waste of time trying to spot me in a Red Hood shirt. Not only are Red Hood shirts woefully rare (unless you want to pay big bucks on Red Bubble or Etsy) but I also don’t wear Batman related t-shirts. This is probably going to sound weird but I’m always worried I’m going to wear one and come across one of Those People. You know the type. They stop you and ask you to prove how much you know about comic books and that you’re not one of those ‘fake nerds’. Kind of like with band t-shirts? I know, I know. Major level neurosis. Nat gets it all the time just because people assume she’s faking her interest in gaming. 

That, and well, Batman as a fandom means a lot to me and I weirdly want to keep it private? It’s hard to explain. That being said, some of the Red Hood t-shirts I’ve seen are seriously cool. 

I have to agree that this is way more fun than homework though. You’re very distracting Winter and I don’t mind a bit.

Cap

From: wintersoldier36@gmail.com  
To: jasontoddstires@gmail.com  
Subject: RE: I should be…

I still don’t know if I’m going to go through the coming out thing with my Dad. I haven’t really planned on doing it so soon but, I don’t know, I’m just getting this urge to do it. To get it out there so at least it’s out there you know? Have you ever felt like that? 

My Dad is religious as you know but Jews are supposed to be gay-friendly. Not that that is going to be a factor. Sure that’s the standpoint of the religion as a whole but it’s not necessarily part that my Dad shares. It’s really hard to tell. You read about all these stories online. People with really strict parents who throw themselves into PFLAG groups and fundraisers and wear t-shirts at Pride that say ‘I Love My Gay Son’. And then you have the parents who are so chill about the neighbour’s kid being gay but can’t deal with their own child coming out. It’s like having kids I suppose. You never know how it’s going to turn out until it’s too late to take it back. 

Thanks for the comic book recommendations. I’ve added them to my Amazon wishlist and you can be sure my Dad is grateful. I guarantee that he’s got probably seven of the Hanukkah gifts and he’s worried about what to get for the eighth. Things are...awkward...between him and my Mom so it’s not like he can just shoot her a quick text for inspiration. 

Speaking of gifts. I know we can’t buy them for one another but know that I would buy you a Red Hood shirt if I could. You don’t have to justify it to anyone Cap. Wear your fanboyism with pride. Maybe I’ll get the chance to treat you one day. 

I’m glad that you find me distracting. It wouldn’t be fair on me otherwise. 

Winter

****

I’m in class and instead of concentrating on history, I’m concentrating on how totally awkward the situation is. Our teacher has given us a short break so the whole classroom has devolved into its factions who are chatting about everything from soccer to make up. And Peggy and I are stuck with Brock who, of course, made a beeline for us as soon as the break was announced.

“So are you guys going to rehearsal today?” He asks. He says ‘you guys’ but all his attention is directed at Peggy who’s using the break to scan through her lines again. She’s not giving him her full attention and he looks a little pissed but like he’s trying not to show it.

“I didn’t know it was optional,” I say. Unwisely. He shoots me a pretty nasty side-eye but has to cover it up quickly when Peggy looks up to laugh. At him. 

“I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you Rogers,” he says after a beat of silence. “Yeah. My brother is actually in town right now. I should, like, introduce him to you. I think you guys would really get along,” he pauses for dramatic effect. “You’ve got a lot in common,” and god damn if he doesn’t put special emphasis on those last words. Like I don’t already get it.

“Aww that’s nice of you,” Peggy says, totally not getting it all. Because why would she? Brock grins at her. I can’t believe he’s actually threatening me again. Although it seems to have made him unable to look me in the eye so there’s that. I guess he has some shame after all.

“Yeah, well…” he says awkwardly, scratching at a spot on his face. God. If he really wants Peggy to find him attractive he really needs to stop picking at himself.

But I can’t stop internally panicking. What if he decides to tell the class about Winter? The whole school? I hate being under his thumb like this but I need to do something.  
“Hey so, I was thinking” and god do I hate myself right now. “How about we go to Starbucks tomorrow? We can run through lines together,” Yep. I fucking hate myself.

Brock beams. Of course he does. The bastard.

“That would be perfect!” Peggy says excitedly. “It would be really helpful. I’ll borrow my Mum’s car and drive us,” 

“Yeah, thanks Steve,” Brock mutters quietly. I’m smiling at them both but, in Brock’s case at least, it’s a goddamn effort. I’m really doing this right now. I’m really allowing Brock Fucking Rumlow to blackmail me. And Peggy has no idea.

“You’re a great friend Steve,” She says happily.

I’m really really not.

****

I’m quickly learning that Brock’s version of flirting is supremely awful. We’re sitting in Starbucks and I’m already on my second cookies and cream Frappuccino (god bless Google and its secret menu suggestions) and Brock is totally bombarding Peggy with questions. Idiotic fucking questions.

“So do they have Starbucks in England?” 

“They do,” She replies. “That’s how I knew what to order,” 

“Ah,” that starts another round of nodding like he’s fucking Kermit or something. He made a big deal of sitting next to her so I grabbed the opposite seat. It’s not particularly crowded so there aren’t too many people around to distract me from the awfulness of the situation.   
“So what part of England are you from? Or am I supposed to call it the UK?”

“Either works.” Peggy says, flipping open her script to give him a hint. “I’m from London,” 

“Oh cool! My brother wants to go there,” 

Suddenly I almost have frappuccino coming out of my nose.   
“Are you ok Steve?” Peggy asks, concerned. 

I’m trying not to choke and Brock disappears to the counter. A moment later he hands me a plastic cup of water. He’s acting so cool and collected like this is just three friends hanging out. Fucking jerk. I take a sip and recover and he goes back to his line of questioning like nothing ever happened.   
“So are both of your parents from London?” 

“Yes,” She replies. She flashes me a look. The briefest roll of her eyes. I feel terrible for putting her through this. “So, let’s pick up from when Nancy comes to visit Fagin’s hideout”

“Yeah, sure!” Brock says. Then he does this freakishly bizarre gesture where he stretches his arm to try and place it next to Peggy’s on the table as he opens up his script. She subtly shifts and moves her own arm.

This private rehearsal session is a total shit show. Brock is clearly making Peggy nervous as she’s either fluffing her lines or constantly having to consult the script when she’s usually pretty flawless. Brock seems to be stumbling along too. He’s constantly trying to act it out properly, restricted by the confines of the table we’re sitting at. 

My mind, of course, drifts to Winter. I should be out with him right now. Maybe in this exact Starbucks. We should’ve just come from the comic book store and be ready to compare purchases. Instead, I’m stuck in Fagin’s hideout while Brock fumbles through the words for ‘I’d Do Anything’. 

“I’m never going to learn this in time,” Peggy groans. 

“And Coulson is already off book,” Brock moans. While Brock and Peggy both have major roles in the play, Phil Coulson is playing the starring role of Oliver. “But then, Coulson does have a photographic memory,” He smiles. “Allegedly,” He says this in an almost perfect imitation of Phil’s voice. 

Peggy grins at him and I smile in spite of myself because I actually forgot that, before this whole blackmail thing, I used to find Brock pretty funny. 

“Oh and don’t forget his naturally fast metabolism,” Peggy adds with a laugh. Phil’s pretty famous in our school for his body. And mentioning that it’s all down to his metabolism. Which is fast. Apparently. 

“I think I’m gonna order another Frap,” Brock says. 

It’s totally weird but I think I’m actually starting to warm to the guy a bit. 

****

From: jasontoddstires@gmail.com  
To: wintersoldier36@gmail.com  
Subject: Coming Out

So what happened Winter? You’re killing me here. Did you do it???

From: wintersoldier36@gmail.com  
To: jasontoddstires@gmail.com  
Subject: RE: Coming Out

Cap, 

Sorry to disappoint but I didn’t end up doing it. 

I met up with my Dad and he took me back to his hotel room. He’d splurged a bit and gotten a pretty decent one which he’d decorated with a menorah (electric candles because fire hazard), my gifts all ready to go along with some takeout latkes from our favourite place. He’d put so much effort into it this year and it was really great to see. I don’t even want to think about the first couple after he’d separated from my Mom. It was...dark. Anyway, I was feeling really nervous because I’d decided that yes, today was definitely going to be the day. But then, seeing the effort he’d made, I don’t know. I didn’t want to risk ruining it. I told myself that I’d wait until we’d done the gift exchange. 

You read about the kids who tell their parents and the parents say that they somehow just knew that their kid was gay. Well, Cap, one of the presents my Dad bought me was a book about dating. A straight book about dating. Women are from Venus, Men are from Mars. I just looked at it for a moment and realised that, obviously, my Dad wasn’t one of those parents. I know that it probably gave me a really great opportunity to segue the conversation into coming out but when I looked at that book in my hands, I just couldn’t. 

I feel like I should feel really sad and disappointed that I couldn’t be honest with him. But, to tell you the truth, I’m actually relieved. It wasn’t until later on, after he’d dropped me back home, that I realised my Mom would probably be really hurt if I didn’t tell her first. Ugh. It’s hard dealing with divorced parents. It makes an already difficult situation become a totally overwhelming one. 

So my plan going forward is to tell my Mom. I haven’t quite decided when yet, just that it’s going to be soon. Who knows, maybe she’ll help me tell my Dad. Talking about this is so much easier with you Cap. I’m really glad we’re here for each other. 

Winter

From: jasontoddstires@gmail.com  
To: wintersoldier36@gmail.com  
Subject: RE: Coming Out

Winter, 

No wonder you couldn’t tell your Dad right after he presented you with a book about straight dating! It just goes to show how clueless parents can be sometimes. I’m really sorry you couldn’t do it. I know how much you were looking forward to getting it out there once and for all. I’m sorry you had to get all anxious over nothing. 

Honestly, I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like having divorced parents. There must be a hefty amount of emotional politics involved. I know I was pretty open about what happened to my Dad and, as tragic and horrible as it was for both my Ma and me, I know that I don’t have to worry about upsetting both of them with my news. I really like to think that Dad would’ve been fine with me being gay but we’ll never know,

I was planning on sitting Ma down and just coming straight out with it (no pun intended). That way it’s all done in one go and the reaction is what it was. But you don’t have that option. You have to go through with it twice and I’m so sorry Winter. I really wish that you didn’t have to deal with having to come out twice like that. 

I’m glad that you find me easy to talk to. I find you easy to talk to too. Maybe it’s because I’m, what was it you called me? Cute and charming? Or maybe it’s my writing skills. My English teacher Mr Phillips sometimes says I have an ‘interesting’ way with words. I don’t necessarily think he means it as a compliment.

Cap

From: wintersoldier36@gmail.com  
To: jasontoddstires@gmail.com  
Subject: RE: Coming Out

Cap,

It’s actually not because you’re cute. If it were, the total opposite would happen. I freeze up around cute guys and generally go really quiet and hope that I don’t do anything stupid. But I know you like it when I call you cute so here it is. You’re cute Cap. 

Did you mean to tell me your English teacher’s name like that? Sometimes it feels like you’re giving me a lot of clues about who you really are. Maybe you’re giving away more than you mean to.

I haven’t said this yet so thanks for letting me type away to you about the Hanukkah thing. You really did make a bad situation easier. 

Winter

From: jasontoddstires@gmail.com  
To: wintersoldier36@gmail.com  
Subject: RE: Coming Out

Argh. The Mr Phillips thing was totally not intentional. I guess I narrowed it down a lot for you huh? I’m really sorry Winter. I feel so dumb. I guess it just kinda slipped out. I wasn’t really thinking when I was typing. 

Let me know how it goes with your Mom when the time comes! 

Cap


	4. Chapter Four

So I guess Oliver Twist and Starbucks is our thing now because here I am yet again. At least this time Peggy and I are here before Brock. We grab our drinks and manage to bag the squashy couches near the back. I take one and Peggy takes the one opposite me. She fusses with her copy of the script which is neatly organised with various colour-coded notes. It’s not surprising that Peggy is a girl with a system. 

Brock arrives a few minutes later and manages to somehow order the most complicated drink with any number of extra pumps and substitutions, knock into the couch so he almost goes headlong and very nearly spills Peggy’s caramel latte all over her script. 

“Shit! Sorry!” He says when he finally takes a seat. Next to Peggy of course. His eyes pop when he does a double-take and sees the script. “Crap! I forgot my script!” 

“Share mine,” Peggy offers, scooting closer to him and sliding her script across the table so it’s in between them. Brock’s expression makes me want to burst out laughing. It’s almost cartoonish. 

We get down to business and we’re back in Fagin’s hideout. Dodger is charming Nancy with his wily ragamuffin ways. During this scene, I don’t have any lines. I just have to hang around in the background looking tough. It means my mind can wander. And these days it only wanders to one particular place. Winter.

Our emailing has really stepped up lately. We’re emailing every single day now. Sometimes more than once. They started out as something on the edge of my life, separate from school and friends and Ma. In a really short time, it’s started to feel like they are my life. It’s a really great life…

“Brock! No!” Peggy’s wail if despair breaks through my Winter Wonderland. Brock has leapt from his chair and is cavorting around the table. His head flung back and he’s gesticulating wildly as he belts Dodger’s verse from ‘I’d Do Anything’. I don’t know how the hell he’s managed to learn to sing in a Cockney accent but he’s doing it now and half of Starbucks is witnessing it. Even the baristas have stopped in their manic speed serving to stare. Peggy’s rapidly turning a deep shade of red and she looks at me with utter horror in her eyes. Remember when I thought the first Starbucks meeting was awkward? Well this, this right here. It tops the hell out of it.

Once he’s done. He doffs his imaginary top hat to the people staring and sits back down as if singing Cockney orphans are an everyday occurrence in a New York Starbucks. And here’s the thing. He actually gets a round of applause because he was pretty fucking good. Peggy pats him on the back and gives him a tiny hug and I swear to god if heart eyes were an actual thing, Brock would have the biggest ones right now.

****

It’s starting to freak me out how much I’m beginning to actually, dare I say it, enjoy Brock’s company. We hung out for another couple of hours after his impromptu performance and he was pretty funny. It’s just a shame the whole blackmail thing is happening.

It’s late when we finally say goodbye to him. Peggy is staying over at my place again. I’ve got the car this time so we get my pick of music as we head back to my place. She looks contemplative. Biting her bottom lip slightly as she nods her head in time to the music. I’m feeling really chill so I don’t go for anything too heavy. Just a little Snow Patrol. Crack The Shutters is a romantic song and always makes me think of Winter. I probably listen to it more times a day than is considered healthy but whatever. 

“I couldn’t believe Brock tonight,” Peggy speaks up, shaking her head at the memory. “So strange but actually rather cute in a way,” 

I laugh. It’s a cold night but I’ve cranked the heat up so that we’re nice and cosy. I don’t know if it’s the warmth, the music or the familiar smell of my car, but I’m feeling really safe. It’s a nice feeling and I want to hang onto it. Peggy’s still looking pensive. She lets out a small sigh.  
“It’s actually a shame he’s not my type,” she adds.

“Or mine,” I joke. It slips out so easy and I’m feeling so calm and content. I really should just tell her. I mean, it’s Peggy. She’s one of my best friends. 

Winter’s going to be telling his Ma tonight. That’s the plan that he told me in his email this morning. I instantly replied full of supportive well wishes. He’s going to keep it lowkey. Apparently, tonight is their takeout night so he’s going to come out over some familiar Chinese food. Honest and casual. Whatever happens, he said, happens. I’m nervous for him. But happy too. And now I’m starting to think that if he can be brave and honest about who he is, then I can too. Like he said, whatever happens, happens. We’ll get through it together just like it should be.

“Hey Peg, I’ve got something to tell you,” I say before I can think-talk myself out of it. I’m doing this. Right here. Right now. 

“Go for it,” Peggy replies. She must sense the importance in my tone because she leans forward and turns down the radio. Snow Patrol starts to fade. I feel like suddenly the only sound is the pounding of my heart.

“This is just between us okay? I haven’t told Sam or Nat,” I take a deep breath. My hands are shaking and I have to pull up to the nearest sidewalk. “The thing is. I’m gay.” 

“Oh,” Peggy replies quietly. I can’t believe I’ve actually said those words out loud. I’ve rehearsed it countless times in my head and now it’s done. I’ll never get to say it for the first time again. I stare through the windshield at the familiar dark street and the pools of light from the street lamps. I feel oddly calm. Almost a peace. “Steve. I’m...I’m really honored that you chose me to say that to,” Peggy continues. I can hear it in her voice, she’s smiling. 

“Are you...shocked? Surprised?” I ask. 

“Not really,” She says gently. “I didn’t know but I’m not surprised.” I feel her move and then suddenly she’s holding my hand. She gives it a quick squeeze, her red nails glinting in the light. She really is one of my best friends. It’s like I can feel the love radiating from her. God. I hope it went this well for him. My Winter. “Are you going to start telling other people?”

I think of them. Ma. Sam and Nat. All our little squad. I know none of them will care. To them I’m just Steve. Gay or straight or anything inbetween.   
“Yeah, yeah I think so” 

“I love you, Steve,” she squeezes my hand again.

“Love you too Peg,” I say as I start up the car again. 

And that’s it. We head home.

***

From: wintersoldier36@gmail.com  
To: jasontoddstires@gmail.com  
Subject: So late because…

I told her Cap. I actually did it. And now I can’t sleep. I’m still feeling really antsy and nervous I guess. 

She took it well. Or she seemed to at least. That’s the thing about my Mom. She’s always so calm and level headed. I don’t know why I ever doubted her. The only awkward part was when she started talking about the importance of condoms. I tried telling her that I’m not actually sexually active but she insisted on having the full talk with me. At least it means she’s not horribly repulsed by the notion of her son with another man.

All in all it could’ve gone a lot worse so, once I come down from the adrenaline, I know it’ll be replaced with relief. 

And here’s something I didn’t tell you, Cap. Tonight happened because of you. There’s no way I would’ve been able to summon the courage on my own. You’re helping me come out of my shell slowly but surely. Saving me from this wall I built up around myself. I guess you could say you’re a superhero. 

Winter

From: jasontoddstires@gmail.com  
To: wintersoldier36@gmail.com  
Subject: RE: So late because…

OMG Winter!

You have no idea how freaking happy I am right now. And proud, so fucking proud!!! I wish I could give you the biggest hug right now. This will have to do!

ghosthug.jpeg 

I’ve got something to tell you too. Tonight you inspired me to do a little coming out of my own. I told one of my best friends. I didn’t think about it or plan it ahead or anything, I just did it. I feel relieved and maybe a little bit embarrassed cos, looking back, I was probably being just a little bit dramatic with it all. There’s also a strange ‘no going back’ type of feeling. It’s the same when I think about senior year ending. Once you step over that line, it’s changed forever and you can never go back in the closet just like you’ll never go back to high school. I don’t know, I feel like maybe I’m not making a whole lot of sense. 

But all this about me being a superhero? No way! If anything, I’m the sidekick. You were your own superhero today Winter and, maybe I haven’t said this enough yet, but I’m really really really proud of you. 

Cap

From: wintersoldier36@gmail.com  
To: jasontoddstires@gmail.com  
Subject: RE: So late because…

Well damn Cap. I’m proud of you too. We really nailed it today. It’s been one of those momentous days that we’ll end up talking about for years to come I think. Something to remember for the rest of our lives.

I completely understand your no going back feeling. Coming out is very much a one-way street. No driving back in the opposite direction once you’ve started the journey. I feel guilty sometimes, being so terrified about coming out nowadays. What if we were back in the 1930s and going through this. Could you imagine? Just you and me against a world full of people that think what we feel is wrong. Hell, it was illegal back then. We’re really lucky to be in the here and now Cap. 

It was funny listening to my Mom talk about all the sex she thinks I’m having with all these boys although a little mortifying too. The truth is, I only think about sex when it comes to one boy in particular. He’s really cute and nerdy and he’s into comic books and eating ungodly amounts of Hershey’s Kisses. I guess you could say that I have a very specific type. And no, I’m not joking about that. Not one little bit. 

Winter 

****

I absolutely, positively have to meet him. 

I really think it’s come to that point. I can’t keep on doing this via email much longer. I swear to God last night I was this close to making out with my damn laptop. 

I feel like I’m about to explode. Winter! Winter! Winter! 

I go about the school day feeling nervous. Like I’m actually going out on a date with him. He occupies my every thought and anything I see, hear and smell somehow reminds me of him. It’s insane. It’s all words on a laptop screen. There’s nothing tangible to Winter but I can’t help it. I’m falling in love with him, 

What am I talking about? I am in love with him. Even though I don’t even know his real name. 

I don’t know how but I make it to rehearsal. Christmas is drawing ever closer so they’ve stepped up from three days a week to four. The whole time I’m not needed on stage I’m sitting by it, watching Bruce with his headset and clipboard, running around in the thick of things. Making notes, calling cues and correcting positions, I’m finding myself wishing that he’ll slip up somehow. Make one little mistake that only I will get and then I’ll know for sure.

I want to talk to him during the short break but I don’t trust myself not to confess all here and now. Instead I settle for just watching him some more. The way he sits. How his shirt matches his eyes perfectly. The slightly spacey way he fumbles in his messenger bag until he finds a book. My heart flutters, hoping that it’ll be the book. That’ll be the clue. The straight dating book from Hanukkah. Only I would know what it really meant, only he ends up pulling out a battered-looking Terry Pratchett book. A sigh escapes.

The rest of the theatre kids are struggling to focus due to the latest post on the high school Tumblr. Apparently some junior was messing around in the chem lab and managed to accidentally create a stink so foul that all chem classes were cancelled for the day. I guess Ms Parker is sick of everyone yammering about it because she can see what a lost cause we all are and sends us home early. 

I meet up with Nat who’s slipping out of the music room looking furtive. I try to question her but she’s typical Nat. I swear the freaking hardest interrogator in the world couldn’t crack her. She’d make a great secret agent. It turns out she’s heading straight for Sam’s basement. I feel too twitchy and tense to be in my own company right now so I follow her. Since the soccer season has ended, Sam and the other band geeks have got a lot more free time on their hands and Sam mostly spends his gaming.

True enough, when we enter the basement, Sam’s in one of the gaming chairs. The familiar barren landscape of the Capital Wasteland sprawls across the screen as he marches along with a tire iron in his hands. Nat flops down in the other gaming chair and I end up sprawling on the couch. Nat and Sam instantly start another Fallout 3 vs New Vegas debate and because I couldn’t care less about games, I close my eyes and let it wash over me.

My thoughts, of course, turn to Winter. Specifically my rapidly growing crush on him. And how it’s different from all my other crushes before. This is nothing like my crush on Ewan McGregor as Obi-Wan or Rupert Grint as Ron Weasley. This is real. And it’s all-consuming. I’ve been so busy with the play lately that I’ve barely seen Sam and Nat outside of school and now we’re right here in his basement, the site of various games consoles, Harry Potter book release all-nighters and countless pizzas. They’re my oldest and best friends and all I can think is that I’d rather be emailing Winter. 

I tune back into them briefly and they’re still trying to hash out which Fallout game is better. It’s sad to think they don’t know about any of this. How I really feel and that those feelings are for a guy. I really want to tell them but I just don’t know how. It’s harder than it was with Peggy. I’ve her for less than a year where Sam, Nat and I have been a squad since middle school. I’m so terrified that it’s all going to change. That, while they’ll be cool, they’re going to look at me differently. And I feel like if that happens, I’ll never quite be Steve again. I was so confident in that car journey with Peggy. Now it all seems to have disappeared as quickly as it came on. 

My phone buzzes with a text from Rumlow. He’s wanting to plan the next Starbucks rehearsal. I sigh and ignore it, cramming my phone in my jeans pocket.

I think the thing that’s really been getting to me since I came out to Peggy is that I feel so distant from Sam and Nat. Even though it’s totally the norm for us not to share our crushes. Sam doesn’t openly talk about Peggy and Nat doesn’t talk about Sam. But my crush being a guy feels like it’s completely different to that. Like I’m living a double life and keeping this huge secret. 

My phone buzzes again but this time it’s from Ma asking me to come home. For the first time in my life, I’m glad of an excuse to leave the basement and there’s just something so inherently sad about that.

*****

It may be Christmas break for the school but there’s no rest of the wicked for us theatre kids. It’s a Friday, the school is closed and yet here we are in the auditorium. Ms Parker has tried to make things feel a little more special and different by encouraging us to come to the early morning rehearsal in our PJs. She’s also brought a couple of big boxes of donuts and orange juice. If she wants us all hopped up on sugar she’s definitely gone the right way about it. 

I’m sitting with Peggy who’s daintily finishing off a powdered sugar donut in one hand while writing on her script in the other. She’s wearing cute cat pyjamas and her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun. She’s also wearing glasses. I totally forgot that she wears glasses sometimes. 

Brock, obviously, arrives a little late so he can make his entrance. He’s wearing an old lady’s pink quilted robe, his hair covered in a hairnet and old fashioned slippers complete with pink pom poms. Everyone bursts out laughing when they see him. Peggy rolls her eyes at him fondly as he does a little caper before curtsying to Ms Parker. 

She stands on the stage dressed simply in jeans and a black sweater. She claps and everyone gathers a little closer.  
“Thanks for coming this morning guys. The plan is we’re going to separate into smaller groups to test out being off the book. We’ll have a break around lunchtime and then we’ll get together and do an entire dress rehearsal.” 

I spot Bruce sitting close to the edge of the stage. He’s making notes on his script. His headset hanging around his neck. My heart skips a beat when I see that he’s wearing his Superman t-shirt again with tartan pyjama pants. Ms Parker gets ready to dismiss us into our small groups when Phil Coulson raises his hand.

“For those of us who are already off the book, do you want us to continue making notes?” He asks because obviously he needs all of us to know that he’s already memorised all of his lines. Just in case we didn’t catch on from the first few hundred times he mentioned it. Just casually. In passing of course. All hail Coulson, King of the not so humble brag.

“You can make notes this morning but I don’t want to see a single copy of the script this afternoon. Don’t panic. I know it’s going to be very messy but it’ll give us what we need to fine tune,” she claps again. “Right, take five and then I’ll get you into your groups,” 

As soon as we’re dismissed I make a beeline for Bruce. He’s chilling on the edge of the stage, finishing off his juice. I boldly give him a little tap on the shoulder and sit down next to him.  
“Nice tartan,” I say. 

“Nice pigs,” he replies, nodding at my cartoon pig PJ pants. I grin and realise I have no clue what else to say. I frantically look around and see that he’s inked a series of cartoon aliens on the edge of his script. Then, at the bottom, he’s drawn a little picture of Superman. It’s not great art or anything, more like cute doodles but the Superman is undeniably Superman. I feel like my heart has just skipped a beat. 

Winter loves Superman. 

Emboldened by his doodle, I slide a little closer to him. Our knees touch but just barely. I don’t think he’s noticed. I don’t know why, maybe it’s the copious amount of sugar, but I’m feeling brave. Not quite brave enough to openly ask him, but enough to close the distance a little. He smiles at me and flips to another part of his script if he has noticed that we’re almost touching he doesn’t seem to be in a rush to stop it. Nor does he seem to be in a rush to react to it either. I’m so sure that he’s Winter but there’s a minute part of me that still has doubts. It’s that doubt that’s stopping me from asking. 

We make notes together for a few minutes until Ms Parker starts to organise us into groups. I look up and catch Peggy staring at me, a little knowing smile on her face. 

*****

Our group is dispatched to the music room and Bruce is put in charge of us. I can’t believe my luck today and I’m trying really hard not to take it as a sign that I should say something more obvious. Or even ask him outright. 

As soon as the music room door closes behind us, the group turns into a rabble. Bruce is struggling to keep control and the only ones who are paying him any attention are Phil and me. He’s looking a little flustered and out of his depth.   
“How about we move these drums?” Phil nods to the drum kit that’s blocking the little row of benches. Bruce nods, coming back into himself.

“Yeah, yeah. That would be great. Thanks!” 

Phil and I start taking apart the kit. There’s what looks like a setlist taped to one of the drums. It lists some seriously badass songs like ‘Pour Some Sugar On Me’ and ‘Paradise City’. Phil’s staring at it in confusion as he rips it from the drum.   
“Well I don’t think this should be here,” he says as he crumples it and throws it in the garbage. Obviously, Phil has to be the destroyer of all things awesome.

Ms Parker has given Bruce a list of all the scenes we need to run through. Once everyone’s settled on the benches we get down to it. Those of us with no lines take other roles, being Mr Bumble or Fagin as required. Everyone’s doing pretty well. Peggy’s barely missing a line, Phil is obviously amazing as the wide eyed orphaned Oliver and Brock is exuding cockney charm as Dodger and being pretty hilarious to boot. We get through it pretty quickly. People are looking at Bruce expectantly, waiting for him to tell us to run through it again. We have over an hour before lunch so we’ve got the time. But let’s be real here. We’re hanging around in an otherwise closed school. We’d be crazy not to take advantage of it. 

We decide to go for a trek to see what we can find. We end up bumping into one of the other groups. They’re racing wheeled chairs down the long English department corridor. Bruce grins at me and I nod. Before I know it, I’m rolling down the corridor and everything’s a crazy blur and all I can think about is the feeling of Bruce’s hands on my shoulders as he pushes me along to the cheers from the rest of our group. This feels like one of those happy high school moments I’ll remember forever. 

I watch as Peggy takes a turn. Phil’s the one pushing her and they’re both laughing like manics. They win their round easily and she comes up to me, giggling and breathless, tendrils of hair falling out of her messy bun. We sit down, backs against the lockers, to watch the others have their turn. She leans into me and I find myself tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear before wrapping my arm around her. It’s nice to sit like this with her, I’m a pretty tactile guy and Nat hates this kind of casual touching. I cuddle her close instinctively as we watch the other races. 

It’s only when it’s time to head back to the auditorium and I stand up do I realize that both Bruce and Brock have been watching us.

*****

“Rogers, we are so fucking talking.” Brock collars me as soon as we’re all back in the auditorium after pizzas in the cafeteria. Ms Parker is getting everyone arranged on stage for the first scene in the workhouse which neither Brock or me are in. Without waiting for an answer from me, Brock pulls me into the wings. Ms Parker has insisted on rehearsing with the full lighting setup so it’s pretty dark and nobody can really see us. Brock looks really pissed so it’s worrying. 

“What about?” I say casually. I think I have a decent enough idea but I can’t believe Brock would be this off base. Or ridiculous. Especially not knowing what he knows. 

“You’re trying to make me look like a total ass and guess what? I don’t appreciate it. Not one fucking bit,” he growls. As if that’s supposed to make any sense to me. I open my mouth to reply but he continues. “I get that you weren’t, like, one hundred per cent on board with our little deal,”

“What the hell Brock? Deal implies I get something good out of this. It’s blackmail. And of course, I’m not on board with it!” 

“Wait, what?” Brock actually looks shocked. “You actually think that I’m blackmailing you?” I swear he actually looks hurt which is totally fucking ridiculous. 

“Obviously,” I spit. My voice is getting a little raised but luckily nobody can hear above the ensemble singing ‘Food Glorious Food’. “What the hell would you call it? A friendly arrangement between two pals?” 

“Whatever,” he shrugs. “It’s done now anyway. The Peggy thing.” 

“What happened?” I ask. There was a point in the cafeteria where I saw Brock accost Peggy and speak to her but I was too busy talking to Bruce about his love of Terry Pratchett. Maybe she said something to him?   
“She shot me down again,” he replies flatly. He looks so depressed that I actually feel sorry for him. It hasn’t really occurred to me that, for Brock, this is more than just a crush on the foreign exchange student. 

“I’m sorry Brock. What did she-“ 

“It doesn’t matter Rogers. It’s over ok? I just find it a little weird that you two were so fucking cosy together roughly ten minutes before she rejects me. Like, obviously you’re bi or something.” 

He’s got it so god damn wrong. I open my mouth again to try and reason with him but he just shakes his head. He glares at the performance on the stage for a moment and shakes his head again.  
“You know what? Tell Ms Parker I’ll see her in fucking January. I’m done here.”


	5. Chapter Five

From:  [ wintersoldier36@gmail.com ](mailto:wintersoldier36@gmail.com)

To:  [ jasontoddstires@gmail.com ](mailto:haleyscircusboy@gmail.com)

Subject: So awkward

Cap,

I’ve only just got into my own bedroom. This is so crazy but when I came home from school today, both of my parents were sitting at the kitchen table. Mom was still dressed for work and they were both just sitting there waiting for me. I honestly thought I was going to throw up right there and then. The last time they did that was the time when they told me they were separating. 

I instantly thought it was because my Mom had decided to tell my Dad I’m gay. They told me to sit down and Mom hands me a cup of coffee like it's some formal meeting. They made some small talk for a few minutes about school and then Mom suddenly stands up and excuses herself, saying that she’s going to leave my Dad and me to talk. 

The whole time we’d been chatting, my Dad had looked really anxious. It’s so unlike him. He’s normally such a calm and collected guy that it was horribly unnerving. After Mom left, he fiddled with his coffee cup for a bit and said there was something he really needed to talk to me about. I thought that this was it, he was going to tell me he knew I was gay and it was going to be really awkward. But instead, he started a whole riff about his car and how he’d been trying to find the best deal on new tires and whether or not Walmart was a good place to buy them. I love my Dad but it was really really boring. Then, in the middle of discussing Dunlop tires, he comes out with it. My step mother, whom he’s been seeing for three years now, is pregnant. And she’s due this summer. And they already know the baby is a girl and they’re calling her Rebecca. 

I really didn’t know what to say, Cap. I was steeling myself for an awkward talk about my sexuality and now I end up finding out that I’m going to be a brother. Which is really weird because up until now I’ve been an only child. I just don’t know what to think.

So I’m wondering if you could whip up some of that charm or humour of yours and help me out because I could really use a distraction right now and you’re always so good at it.

Winter

  
  


From:  [ jasontoddstires@gmail.com ](mailto:haleyscircusboy@gmail.com)

To:  [ wintersoldier36@gmail.com ](mailto:wintersoldier36@gmail.com)

Subject: RE: So awkward

Winter,

Congratulations are in order! at least I think? I don’t really know how you feel about getting a sister but I’m guessing you might not be too happy about it. Or maybe it’s still raw and you haven’t processed it yet. 

So humour huh? Farts? Farts are still funny, right? Loud ones. Squeaky ones. Silent but deadly ones. FARTS! I’m trying here. 

I’m sorry you had to come home to that. It’s strange they went behind your back and got together to tell you. Maybe your Dad wanted your Mom to know first? And then him being so nervous and rambling about tires. Almost like he’s our age and you’re his Dad and he’s telling you he got some girl pregnant. Which, by the way, I’ve decided is the straight version of coming out. 

Ah! A distraction! Don’t you think that it’s really unfair that we, as gay people, are the ones who have to come out? I honestly think that everyone should have to go through it. Why is being straight the automatic default? Everyone should have to declare what they are, straight, bi, gay, pan, whatever. The world would be a better place if everyone had to experience the awkwardness that’s for sure. 

I really hope this is helping you even a little. I’m sorry if it’s not up to my usual standard. Things have been a little strange for me today too. You’re not alone Winter and, as long as I’m around, you won’t be. I’m thinking of you. 

Cap

From:  [ wintersoldier36@gmail.com ](mailto:wintersoldier36@gmail.com)

To:  [ jasontoddstires@gmail.com ](mailto:haleyscircusboy@gmail.com)

Subject: RE: So awkward

Cap,

Thanks for your quick reply, it really did help a lot. You’re right about my not having processed it yet. It feels like a clusterfuck, to be honest, and I’m trying to wrap my head around it all. I mean, I think that it might be quite nice to have a little sister? I can see myself fitting into the big brother role although I know nothing about babies. Just getting a decent night’s sleep has also helped and, as always, talking to you makes everything seem better. 

I’m really sorry you had a strange day. Do you want to talk about it? 

I agree with you about the default being straight. It is unfair that we’re the ones who have to go through coming out because we’re the ones who are different. Straight people should definitely have to come out, the more awkward, the better. 

And I bet you can’t guess what I’m eating right now!

Love, 

Winter

  
  


From:  [ jasontoddstires@gmail.com ](mailto:haleyscircusboy@gmail.com)

To:  [ wintersoldier36@gmail.com ](mailto:wintersoldier36@gmail.com)

Subject: RE: So awkward

Winter, 

I’m glad you’re feeling a bit more positive about the whole thing. I can imagine that you’ll make a really great big brother! Rebecca is going to be very lucky. 

No worries about my day. This guy I know got pissed at me and it’s a bit of a pain and long winded to explain. It’s basically all just a stupid misunderstaning. Ugh. 

Now you’ve got me all curious about what you’re eating! A banana? A cucumber maybe? 

Love Cap

  
  


From:  [ wintersoldier36@gmail.com ](mailto:wintersoldier36@gmail.com)

To:  [ jasontoddstires@gmail.com ](mailto:haleyscircusboy@gmail.com)

Subject: RE: So awkward

Cap, 

Get that mind out of the gutter boy! Anyway, it’s more like a huge baguette ;) 

Seriously though, it’s a bag of candy cane flavoured Kisses in your honour. 

  
  
  


From:  [ jasontoddstires@gmail.com ](mailto:haleyscircusboy@gmail.com)

To:  [ wintersoldier36@gmail.com ](mailto:wintersoldier36@gmail.com)

Subject: RE: So awkward

Winter, 

I am so on board with you eating Kisses for breakfast! And I love your huge baguette. 

Ok...so...I’ve typed this very short email nearly 10 times now and I keep going back and deleting what I’ve written. I really can’t think of a better way to say this so I figured the best way was to just come out and say it. 

I think we should meet in person. I really want to know who you are.

Love Cap

****

  
  


I can’t help but feel that Christmas has lost its magic this year. It’s not a wholly bad feeling, it’s like something is off or out of sync. I’m not sure why. I’ve got a weird feeling in my stomach that I can’t really explain. It’s Christmas Eve and Ma has somehow managed to get both Eve and Day off so she’s in a good mood. 

We’re going all out on the Rogers Christmas Traditions. We’ve got our favourite Christmas movies lined up ready to watch. Ma has made her patented candy cane cookies and we’ve got a bowl full of Kisses. The tree is up and decorated and the gifts are under it waiting for tomorrow. I find that I’m kind of drifting around the house, unable to settle in one room or on one task. I think about emailing Winter but I’ve already sent him one and I don’t want to bombard him. Especially since he still hasn’t replied to my email asking to meet him. 

There’s a knock at the door and I rush to answer it for something to do. Nat is standing there, bundled up in a hat and scarf. Sam lurks in the background looking awkward. I move aside so they can come in but Nat shakes her head. 

“How about we go for a walk?” She asks. She sounds a little strange but I can’t put my finger on why. I grab my jacket from the hook and stuff my feet into my boots, yell to Ma and we’re out the door. 

Nobody says anything for a good few minutes as we stroll up the street.

“So, you guys just felt like a walk?” I ask trying to sound casual. We never just go for walks. We’re either in each other’s cars, Starbucks or Sam’s basement. That sick twisty feeling is coming back. 

“So, uh, how are you, Steve?” Nat asks. Her voice sounds really weird. Not her usual sarcastic or deadpan self. She sounds almost gentle like she’s afraid of saying the wrong thing. The sick feeling gets worse. 

“Ok guys. This is seriously weird.” I say because I can’t stand it for another minute. Something is going on and I need to know. Nat is looking at me but Sam is staring at some particular garishly decorated yard. It’s all inflatable snowmen and a full on light up sleigh on the roof. “What’s going on?” 

“We just felt like a walk,” Nat replies as Sam shuffles awkwardly from foot to foot. He feels like he’s looking everywhere but at me. And suddenly it all clicks into place. The awkwardness, the strange atmosphere. I can’t actually believe it’s happened.

“You guys got together,” I say.

Their reactions say it all. I’m wrong. So, so wrong. Sam immediately starts like he’s just seen the biggest spider on his leg. Nat blushes and drops her eyes. Oh god. 

“Yeah, no,” she says awkwardly. 

“Well, then what?” I ask. “Why are you guys being so weird? What’s happened?” 

“Erm,” Sam scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, opens his mouth like he’s going to explain but immediately clams up. He looks to Nat for help but she’s still tinged pink and utterly refusing to meet his eye. She looks down at the damp sidewalk like it’s the most interesting thing she’s ever seen. About a million hours pass and we’re just standing there at the corner of my street. Sam awkward, Nat trying to look as small as possible and me wondering what the hell this is all about.

“Yeah, so, I’m going,” Nat says eventually, still not making eye contact with either of us. “Merry Christmas or whatever,” 

She turns on her heel and stalks back up the street. Sam and I watch her go. I sigh and turn to him.

“Sam, what’s going on?” 

“Look, Steve, don’t...don’t worry about it okay?” He replies. He sighs heavily and watches Nat disappear round the corner. 

“Wanna come back to mine? Ma has made those candy cane cookies you like,” I offer because if they’re not going to tell me, I guess I should act like there’s some semblance of normality. 

“Cool. Uh, actually I figure I’m gonna…” he trails off and looks back up the street like he’s expecting Nat to show up and rescue him. I’ve known Sam most of my life and yet, right now, he’s wearing an expression that I’ve never seen before. He sighs again and puts and hand on my shoulder. “Have a good Christmas Steve,” he says before nodding at me and hurrying away up the street.

*****

Christmas Eve dinner is always Chinese takeout. We order from the same place every year because Dragon Palace has some seriously good egg rolls. We lay it all out on the dining room table with Ma’s special plates with the reindeers on. She got them from a thrift store a few years ago and since then they’ve been a Rogers holiday tradition. 

Ma’s on top form as we eat, filling me in on all the hospital gossip and sharing her latest 90 Day Fiance theories. I’m trying my best to settle down and just enjoy the evening but Anfisa’s latest crazy antics aren’t making me laugh and even the egg rolls taste kind of like sawdust. There’s something missing but I just can’t put my finger on it. Plus that horrible sick feeling is back. I don’t want to worry Ma so I do my best to plough through my Kung Pow chicken and Singapore Noodles. 

Maybe it’s because of this Sam and Nat weirdness from this morning. I haven’t heard from either of them since even though I texted some dorky Christmas meme in our group Whatsapp just to try and feel normal again. Or maybe it’s because of the fact that I’m in love with a boy who doesn’t want to meet me in person. A boy who won’t even trade numbers so we can hear each other speak. Yet this is the same boy who, for the past three weeks, has been signing off with the word ‘love’ on all his emails. They say Christmas loses its magic as you get older but I never thought it would feel like this. 

Once the dinner things are cleared away and the leftovers are stowed in the fridge, Ma and I flop on the couch and turn on Scrooged. She turns off all the lights apart from our Christmas tree and puts a big bowl of Kisses in between us. I’ve watched Scrooged a million times and usually I love it l because, let’s face it, Bill Murray. Need I say more? But even the story of the evil TV exec turned loveable family man doesn’t get me feeling merry. It’s like something is missing even though it’s the same as last year. After the movie, I slope off to my room. I don’t even bother to take the remainder of the Kisses with me. Ma gives me a weird look but doesn’t comment. I flop onto my bed and bring up Spotify on my phone. I have a playlist for every mood and right now, melancholy feels like the perfect one. I stare at the multi-coloured Christmas lights taped around my window. Watching them slowly blink on and off until they go blurry and start looking like multi-coloured stars. 

I’m six songs in and completely vibing with the melancholy when my music stops and Whatsapp trills. I grab my phone and see that Peggy is calling. It crosses my mind to ignore it but then I figure, what the hell, Peggy’s always bright and chirpy and might just help me feel better. I slide to answer. 

“Hi Steve,” She sounds quieter than usual. What is it with everyone today? She doesn’t wait for me to reply. “There’s something you really need to see,” 

“Um, sure,” I reply. She’s quiet for a moment. It feels like she’s trying to choose her words. It’s so unlike Peggy. 

“Open up your laptop and go to Tumblr,” She says. 

“The high school Tumblr?” I ask. It’s literally the only reason I use it. I did have an art blog for a while but I ended up just kind of trailing off with it and heading back to DeviantArt. 

“Yeah,” 

I haul myself up from the bed and sit at my desk and bring my laptop to life. I open up Chrome and I'm not about to admit this to Peggy, but the high school tumblr is on my favourites list.

“It’s just loading up now,” we don’t have the best wifi in the world so it takes a while. “Ok, got it. What am I looking for?” 

“Scroll down to this morning,” Peggy replies. “And Steve? I’m right here okay?” 

It’s a weird thing for her to say but it’s been a weird day so I almost take it in my stride. I scroll my way through stupid Christmas memes and Santa gifs and people showing off thier present piles under the tree and then finally I see it. And now I know why they’ve all been so weird with me…

_ Steve Rogers Is Open For Business - Only Guys May Apply!!! _

_ From here on in, let it be known that I, Steven Grant Rogers, am totally and completely gay. Consider my asshole open to all guys who are interested in ass fun and dick sucking. Don’t want to be lonely this Winter. I’m ready to Soldier on in the name of all that is GAY. _

  
  


I must be silent for a long time because I can hear Peggy on the other end of the line repeatedly saying my name.

“Hey Peg,” I say quietly. Because fucking hell. What can I say?

“I’m so sorry Steve. I know you didn’t write that. It’s so awful. I’ve reported it and the staff will take it down, I’m sure of it.”

“People have seen it,” I say, more to myself than to Peggy because the full horror is only just dawning on me. 

“I’m sorry Steve,” Peggy repeats. “I don’t know who would do such an awful, cruel thing like this. It’s so, so fucked up,” 

It’s the first time I’ve ever heard her swear and it shocks me into some kind of functionality. I know who made the post of course. If there’s anything good to feel over it it’s that he didn’t go the whole fucking hog and post the screenshots he took. All I can focus on is those sly fucking digs at Winter. 

Fuck. Winter. What if he’s already seen it? 

I slump down in my chair and turn away from my desk. This is why I’ve been feeling so off all day. This is why Sam and Nat were being so fucking weird. Peggy is silent, obviously letting me process it. 

“I guess I’ll have to tell Ma now,” I say eventually. “I don’t really have the luxury of choosing to anymore. She’ll find out from someone else,” 

“Yeah,” Peggy replies sympathetically. “Just...don’t deny it, Steve. You shouldn't be ashamed of who you are,” 

“I’m not,” I say because that’s the one thing I am sure of right now. 

“That’s good,” she says. She swallows. “I know there’s nothing I can say to make it better but there’s something my grandmother used to say. It’s always stuck with me and maybe it’ll help. Even if the whole world is telling you to move, it is your duty to plant yourself like a tree, look them in the eye and say no. You move.” 

“Thanks Peg,” I say and I manage to smile a little despite the shitshow of the situation. Peggy’s grandmother is right.

“You know I love you Steve,” Peggy says quietly. 

“Yeah. Love you too Peg.” 

“If you ever need to speak to me, call me any time. Or just let me know and I’ll come to your house. I’ll borrow my Mum’s car,” 

“Thanks. Really.” 

We hang up and I throw my phone back onto my bed. I spin my chair back around and stare at the tumblr post that’s still there and gathering notes, wondering what the fuck I’m going to do next.

*****

Christmas Morning arrives way too quickly for my liking. It’s a total 180 from younger Steve who would be wide awake at five am, desperate to tear into his gifts and see what Santa had brought him. Ma always asked me for a list of the things I wanted and she would choose one big present from it and a couple of little presents so I’d still get something I’d like but it would be a surprise. 

I’ve got one hell of a fucking surprise already. Merry Christmas to you too Rumlow. 

I head downstairs to make myself a cup of coffee. Ma isn’t working so I’m going to let her sleep in as much as possible. I go into the lounge to look at our tree. The lights are still off and all our presents are sitting underneath it. The various decorations I’ve made over the years are still in pride of place amongst the branches. My stomach clenches and twists and I feel so far away from the Steve who thought that Christmas trees were magical. Our couch has a stocking in both corners, obviously put there by Ma before she went to bed last night. I move mine aside and curl up on my corner of the couch waiting for her. 

I wonder what Winter is doing right now. He said he was going to spend today with his Ma and tomorrow with his Dad. He’ll have two Christmas days and, while that sounds like every kid’s dream, it’s also really sad. I really want to send him an email with everything that’s happened but I don’t dare. I haven’t even opened my laptop or touched my phone since last night. I really wanted to ignore the fact that I’ll be coming out this morning and that, by this point, I’m probably already out to the whole school.

Ma comes down the stairs an hour later and I make another coffee and we have bacon rolls before we sit down to open presents. 

“It’s funny, I never noticed that you started drinking coffee,” Ma says after I’ve taken a sip. I guess that right there is why I’m so nervous about telling her. Whether she means to or not, she pigeon holes me and then that’s that and anything that breaks that mould is a big deal. Even if it’s just a cup of coffee. It’s embarrassing as all hell.

“I do,” I shrug and, I guess my tone is a lot harsher than I intended because she raises her eyebrows and pulls a ‘calm down there son’ face. 

“I’m just trying to keep up with you honey,” 

I nod apologetically and we make for the presents. Apparently, when Winter’s parents were still together, they had a system where they each opened one present at a time, him, then his Ma and then his Dad and repeated until all the gifts are gone. There’s no such decorum here. Ma is on the floor by the tree, digging out the presents and tossing mine to me. Once they’re in our two piles, we start ripping into them, occasionally talking over each other. It takes us less than half an hour to open all our gifts. There’s paper everywhere. Ma is still sitting by the tree, fiddling around with the e-reader she got from her work’s Secret Santa. I’m on my corner of the couch, running my hands over my new sketchbook and appreciating how thick and porous the paper feels. It goes perfectly with the new set of gouache that Ma picked out. There’s a feeling of quiet contentment in the air. It’s obviously my stage. 

Although, if it really were my stage, I’d have a choice when to put on the show. And it sure as hell wouldn’t be happening now that’s for sure. Definitely soon but not now, not on Christmas Day when I should be able to relax and enjoy some rare down time with my Ma. I take a deep breath and think of Winter and the courage he showed by telling his Ma. 

“Ma, there’s something I need to tell you,” I’m trying my best to sound casual but even I can hear the nervous quaver in my voice. 

“Sure honey,” She says, instantly putting the e-reader down on the carpet and looking at me. She looks so relaxed and I feel so bad for dropping this on her. I have no freaking clue how Winter did this. How he found it within himself to say two words. Two small words at that. Except they’re big words when you think about it. Big words that I’ll say and then I’ll never be able to be the same Steve again. I look down at my hands, they’re gripping the edge of the sketchbook so tightly my knuckles are white. “I’m gay,” 

Two big words. Ma is quiet for what feels like forever. 

“Oh Steve honey, thank you so much for telling me,” She says eventually. She doesn’t look angry or hurt or any different really. She gets up and sits beside me on the couch. “I’m so proud of you,” She says as she puts her arm around my shoulders and gives it a quick squeeze. 

So that’s it. I suppose it went down exactly as I expected. Ma isn’t treating me any differently. She gives me a hug then gets up to make us our traditional candy cane hot chocolate and tells me to line up Home Alone. The thing is, even though it’s finally out, I still feel so unhappy. I suppose I expected to feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders but it doesn’t. The weight is still there and, in my mind’s eye, it looks horribly like Brock Rumlow. 

  
  


*****

  
  


From:  [ jasontoddstires@gmail.com ](mailto:haleyscircusboy@gmail.com)

To:  [ wintersoldier36@gmail.com ](mailto:wintersoldier36@gmail.com)

Subject: Christmas

Hey Winter, 

Well, I had a pretty strange Christmas. The super annoying part of that is that I can’t even tell you why it was so strange. What I can tell you is that I came out to my Ma on Christmas Day. There were circumstances that kind of forced my hand but yeah, the deed is officially done. 

Now it’s your turn to provide me with a distraction. I’m looking for anything here. Do you have any info on how Rebecca is doing? Or maybe something about your Ma or you Dad? Maybe you just wanna talk about how cute you think I am or how your Christmas was and whether you ended up face first in a bowl full of Kisses because you’ve finally realised that candy cane is the supreme flavour and they’re only available over the holidays so you have to eat them all before they’re gone. Something like that. 

I really hope that your Dad’s place in Indiana has internet since I know you’ll be heading down there tomorrow to spend the New Year with him. I don’t think I could be without your emails for too long. Maybe you should think about giving me your phone number? We don’t have to call or anything. I promise I’m equally as cute via text message. 

Merry Christmas Winter. I hope you had a great day and got some cool presents. Maybe next year we’ll get to spend some of it together. 

Love, Cap

  
  
  


From:  [ wintersoldier36@gmail.com ](mailto:wintersoldier36@gmail.com)

To:  [ jasontoddstires@gmail.com ](mailto:haleyscircusboy@gmail.com)

Subject: RE: Christmas

Cap, 

I’m really sorry about your Christmas. Whatever those circumstances were, I know that you weren’t planning on telling your Mom over Christmas. I wish that I could wave a magic wand and make it better for you.

There aren’t any updates on Rebecca other than she’s growing as expected and my Dad and stepmom are currently discussing bedroom colours. He wants the traditional pink and she wants yellow. It’s a conversation they’ve had repeatedly and it never seems to go anywhere so who knows what sort of room she’ll end up with.

As for you being cute. Well, that’s something I could go on about for quite some time. You’re insanely cute Cap. Wonderfully cute. Absurdly cute. I spend an awful lot of my time trying to translate your cute messages into something to daydream about and those kinds of things. I imagine that you’re just as cute in person.

Which brings me to the texting idea. Honestly, Cap, I don’t know. I wish I had a better answer for you other than that. In terms of the internet, you don’t need to worry on that front. I’m actually writing to you from my room at my Dad’s place. Indiana is rife with wifi. You won’t even notice I’m not in NY.

Love, Winter

  
  


From:  [ jasontoddstires@gmail.com ](mailto:haleyscircusboy@gmail.com)

To:  [ wintersoldier36@gmail.com ](mailto:wintersoldier36@gmail.com)

Subject: RE: Christmas

  
  


Those kinds of things??? What kind of things Winter? I need you to be really specific here. ;) 

Love, Cap

  
  


From:  [ wintersoldier36@gmail.com ](mailto:wintersoldier36@gmail.com)

To:  [ jasontoddstires@gmail.com ](mailto:haleyscircusboy@gmail.com)

Subject: RE: Christmas

What’s that? Oh. I think my Dad is calling me.

;) 

  
  


*****

  
  


“Steven Grant Rogers. The vacuum. Now!” 

I roll my eyes as I trudge down to our basement with the vacuum cleaner in tow. I have no idea why but suddenly Ma has decided that Sam, Nat and Peggy coming over to watch the ball drop and eat some snacks is a full blown party. A full-blown party that requires the basement to be in a presentable condition. The same basement they’ve seen countless times before. 

“Oh and I need to talk to you about Sam,” Ma says as she comes downstairs a few minutes later with a case of soda. She hands it to me and I start loading the cans into the fridge apart from three for Nat because she hates cold soda. “I don’t think that it’s appropriate for him to stay over in your room anymore-“ 

“Really Ma?” God. Could this conversation get any more awkward and weird? It’s like she’s forgotten that Sam is totally straight and not at all likely to jump me and make sweet love down by the fire. 

Once everyone arrives, we settle on the beat up basement couch and get started on the pizzas Ma ordered. Our basement isn’t as big and well equipped as Sam’s but it’s cosy in its own way with the mini fridge, our old couch and the big rug spread in front of it. There’s also our old TV and we chow down while watching reruns of That 70s Show. Sam has brought his guitar over and he’s idly plucking at the strings, playing a few notes from one song, a few from another. It would probably annoy most people but it’s a noise that’s so inherently Sam that it’s relaxing. 

I notice that he’s squashed up close to Peggy on the couch and Nat is intently staring at the TV pretending not to notice. The weird twisty feeling comes back again and I feel like I have to act extra jolly to compensate.

“Kitty Forman is the best ever TV Mom. Change my mind,” I say. 

“Wrong there, buddy. Vivian Banks!” Sam replies. He puts the guitar down and grabs another slice of pepperoni pizza. “Obviously the second incarnation,” 

“So the tumblr post finally got taken down,” Nat says out of nowhere. The whole room goes quiet and all eyes are on me. I could try to laugh and shrug it off and talk about how THAT scene with Kitty asking for a lighter is peak awesome Mom but I know I need to face it sooner or later and it might as well be now. 

“Yeah,” I say. Suddenly my cherry coke can in my hand has become the most interesting artwork I’ve ever laid eyes on. 

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want Steve,” Peggy says gently. She’s still sitting close to Sam and, despite the awkwardness of the situation, he’s giving her his puppy dog eyes. Since the disastrous walk on Christmas Eve, neither Sam nor Nat has tried to bring it up with me until now. Our group chat has just been wall to wall Christmas memes and talk about whether Home Alone 1 is better than Home Alone 2 (Sam loves the lady with the pigeons). 

“So who wrote it?” Nat asks. She’s got that look in her eyes. The one that everyone’s afraid of. Clint calls it her Killer Look. It’s pretty fierce. 

“Does it really matter?” I ask. Them finding out that it was Rumlow really isn’t going to change anything. It’d be more likely to get Nat suspended if anything. Everyone’s silent again and I can feel the unspoken question hanging in the air ready to smother us like a thick blanket. “I’m gay for real though,” I stand up because this isn’t going to be what tonight is about. I already lost Christmas to this. I’m damned if I’m going to lose New Years too. “I’m gonna grab some of that peppermint bark ice cream. Who’s in?” 

“Wait man. You just told us you’re gay and now all of sudden we’re back to ice cream?” Sam asks. 

“Yup,” I reply. “This isn’t going to be a big deal tonight guys.” 

“Cool,” Sam says with a shrug. “Put some of those mini marshmallows in my bowl,” he continues. Peggy smacks him on the arm. “What?” 

“You could say something supportive,” She says. “Or even just give him a quick hug or tell him you love him like I did,” 

Nat hasn’t said a word since she asked me who wrote it but now she stares at Peggy.

“You already knew?” 

“Oh! Well, yes,” Peggy says awkwardly, going a little pink. Nat’s eyes go back to the rug.

“I see.” 

****

And just like that, everything goes back to normal for the next few hours. We demolish the ice cream, we watch the ball drop and we mock the neighbours for the insane amount of money they must have spent on fireworks. 

Ma has prepared the spare room for Nat and Peggy but we all opt for creating a huge pile of pillows, blankets and sleeping bags on the basement rug. Sam is pretty much asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow, with Peggy following suit not long after. I can’t really see in the darkness but I think Nat’s eyes are open. She’s definitely breathing like she’s awake. We’ve had enough sleepovers over the years to know each other’s breathing patterns in sleep. Thinking of that reminds me of how close we are despite feeling that my sexuality had created this wall between us.

“Hey Nat,” I keep my whisper on the quieter side, just in case she wants to pretend she didn’t hear it. You can’t even rush Nat to talk about things. She keeps it all very close to her chest. “Are you mad about me telling Peggy before you guys?” 

“I mean, I don’t really have the right to be mad,” She replies. “This isn’t about me Steve. It’s your thing so how would I even get to be mad?”

“Just because it’s my thing doesn’t mean you don’t get to have feelings about it,” I say. I realise now how much it must’ve hurt Nat that I told Peggy first. She’s already weird around Peggy because of the Sam thing. I really haven’t helped things. 

“So, did you think I’d have a problem with it?” She asks.

“Fuck no,” I reply reflexively. “You’re the one who introduced me to the world of slash fanfiction!” 

“So who else knows?” It’s too dark for me to see her face. Not that it would matter anyway. If Nat doesn’t want you to find out how she feels about something, it’s like getting blood from a stone. 

“I told my Ma on Christmas Day. I had to before someone else did,”

“Who else from school?” Nat presses. 

“Just Peggy,” I answer. I’m technically not lying. I didn’t exactly volunteer the information to Brock. 

“How did it get to the tumblr?”

“Oh, that? Um…long story,” I fake a yawn. I really don’t want to have to go into talking about Winter and exactly how much of a total fucking tool Brock Rumow is. “I’m beat. I’m gonna sleep,” 

I don’t sleep, of course. Not one bit. 

*****

  
  


From:  [ wintersoldier36@gmail.com ](mailto:wintersoldier36@gmail.com)

To:  [ jasontoddstires@gmail.com ](mailto:haleyscircusboy@gmail.com)

Subject: RE: cray-cation

Cap,

Sorry to hear your New Years was equally as weird as your Christmas. Still, we’ve still got a few days left of vacation so I would suggest you spend those remaining days catching up on some sleep and emailing me. 

I really missed writing to you last night but I pretty much went straight to bed after the party. It wasn’t too bad considering it was a family gathering. My Aunt was hosting it and she always goes all out on the buffet. I swear my Dad and Stepmom came away with several tupperware containers full of leftovers that will see them through until next New Years. She’s a great cook but, you’ll be sad to hear, not a Hershey’s Kiss in sight!

Speaking of my Stepmom, she’s had a sonogram recently so she was handing round pictures of Rebecca. She looks like your average fetus in that I can’t tell where she begins and where she ends. My Aunt was telling her that she should’ve opted for the 3D scan. I’ve never heard of a 3D scan so, me being me, I googled it and wow Cap. Just wow. I really wish my eyeballs had a delete function. 

Love, Winter

  
  


From:  [ jasontoddstires@gmail.com ](mailto:haleyscircusboy@gmail.com)

To:  [ wintersoldier36@gmail.com ](mailto:wintersoldier36@gmail.com)

Subject: RE: cray-cation

Winter,

Why oh why did I do it??? You warned me and yet I googled 3D scans anyway. Wow. I mean, just wow. At least we can share in the trauma now? 

Remember your DC Comics rabbit hole? I fell down my own. Only mine wasn’t as fun to read. Somehow, I totally blame my tiredness which has now tipped over into exhausted, I went from 3D scans to reborn dolls. Oh. My. God. There are no words. I can see the merit in them if you’re that way inclined. And I can see how they might possibly help those that have lost children but really Winter, they’re utterly terrifying. Especially when you fall further down the hole and discover they do THEMED reborn dolls. You haven’t witnessed true horror unless you’ve seen an Avatar baby….

Have I mentioned lately that pretty much everything reminds me of you? I feel like I can’t go anywhere these days without seeing someone in a Superman t-shirt. Even the word super conjures up thoughts of you. Get this, Ma decided she wanted to order pizza last night from these new place and she hands me the menu. I’m looking at the options and there’s a Super Special pizza. It’s like a pizza but super I guess. There’s super fries too. And super shakes. And then my mind starts to whirr and after dinner I go upstairs, open my sketchbook and before I know it I’ve designed a whole food based Justice League. Seriously. They have costumes and everything. And instead of Aquaman, you have a sub sandwich with a trident and a little crown. Once I got started, I couldn’t stop. I really wanted to text you the pictures as I was drawing them only someone doesn’t want to exchange numbers! 

Love, Cap

  
  


From:  [ wintersoldier36@gmail.com ](mailto:wintersoldier36@gmail.com)

To:  [ jasontoddstires@gmail.com ](mailto:haleyscircusboy@gmail.com)

Subject: RE: cray-cation

Cap,

Shared trauma indeed! A quick Google image search revealed to me the terror that is Avatar reborn dolls. Kudos to you Cap. I think, Reddit stories aside, you’ve actually found one of the creepiest things on the internet.

Your food crime fighters sound immensely cute and, of course, I would love to see them. The thing is, I’m still really unsure of the whole exchanging numbers thing. I’m really sorry Cap. Please don’t take it personally. The sheer thought of it terrifies me. I know you would never do it without discussing it with me first, but it’s the idea that, if you wanted to, you could phone me and hear my voice and know who I am. It’s scary. I wish I could articulate it better than I am doing. I spend so much of my time thinking about you and what our first meeting would be like so it seems silly to not just move forward that one little step. But then there’s the scared part of me that says it’s actually a very big step with the potential to change everything. I just don’t think I want to run the risk of losing you. 

I really hope that made even a little bit of sense. I’m sorry Cap but the bottom line is that I’m just not ready for that. I hope you’re not too mad at me.

Love, Winter

  
  


From:  [ jasontoddstires@gmail.com ](mailto:haleyscircusboy@gmail.com)

To:  [ wintersoldier36@gmail.com ](mailto:wintersoldier36@gmail.com)

Subject: RE: cray-cation

Winter,

I think I understand where you’re coming from. I know I come across as super curious and yeah, probably a bit needy. I totally wouldn’t call you without talking about it first so you really don’t need to worry on that front. You can trust me.

I feel like I’m making a big deal out of this. It’s not that I hate our emails. They’re the best part of my day. But the closer we get, the more I’m longing for the normal stuff. Like being able to text you. And yeah, meet in person because I think about that a lot too. The more we email the more my feelings grow and the more I want to hear everything. I want to know your parent’s names, who you like to hang around with and what your favourite class is. All those little things that we can’t tell each other for fear of giving ourselves away. 

Your email made a lot of sense Winter. I wouldn’t want to lose you too. I’d never force you to do anything before you’re ready. You’re not going to lose me whatever happens ok? 

Love, Cap

  
  


*****

  
  


The last few days of the Christmas vacation go by way too quickly for my liking. Before I know it, Ma has taken the tree down, stored the decorations in the attic and school is starting again. I find myself just sitting in my car, staring at the clumps of students scurrying into the building and trying to guess how many of them saw the tumblr post before it got taken down. My radio is playing but I can’t even get into the music. I feel so fucking sick and I can’t seem to make the move to leave my little safe bubble. 

Suddenly, the car door opens and cold air rushes in. It wakes me up a little. The door slams shut and Peggy is sitting in my passenger seat. Immediately her hand finds mine. 

“You’ll be ok Steve,” she says. “It was only up for three days at the most and I bet everybody was too busy with Christmas to even check the high school Tumblr,” she adds as she gives me a reassuring squeeze.

For a short while it’s easy to believe what Peggy said about people not seeing the post. When I do get the courage to head into school everything seems fine. Totally normal in fact. Everyone’s rushing around like usual or hanging out by their lockers chatting. Nobody stares at me or points a finger or starts yelling abuse. My locker has been left alone too. No graffiti, no booby traps. Everything’s normal. Clint cuffs me on the shoulder as he walks past and a couple of people from my classes smile and nod at me like always. I feel like I can finally breathe out. It’s actually starting to look like nobody saw Rumlow’s post.

Fucking Rumlow. As much as I’d love to avoid him for the rest of my life, it’s not really an option. Not only do I have the play to think about, it’s also my luck that he’s in my first class of the day. I trudge down the corridor, thinking about what I’m going to say if he even attempts to talk to me. I fantasise about punching him right in his evil fucking jaw. 

I’m thinking about this when some kid I don’t even know grabs my ass. I turn around and he makes a big show of giving me a wink and blowing a kiss and grabbing his crotch. God. It’s so fucking gross. I pick up my pace a little bit because I really don’t want to draw attention to this.

“Hey Rogers, where ya going? We all want a piece!” The guy calls after me. His words ricochet down the hallway like bullets, hitting students and turning their eyes on me. Everyone’s laughing like it’s some big joke. I don’t know any of them. 

****

Rumlow doesn’t try to talk to me. He can’t even look at me. He completely ignores my presence in first period and hurries to leave as soon as the bell sounds. Other than the asshole in the hallway, I’m left alone for the most part. Peggy and Nat are by my side almost the whole time. Nat’s side eye is turned all the way up and she’s got that look on her face that makes everyone leave her alone. Peggy is more serious than usual too, her mouth a grim line of determination as they flank me. 

But it was stupid, naive even, to think that nobody saw the post. Despite Peggy and Nat’s new guard dog roles, I do get some whispers and stares. Kids I’ve never spoken to before smile at me and offer me the fist of solidarity. Some girl from the LGBT society hands me a flyer about a board game night. A guy with a pride flag pin badge on his jacket lapel gives me his cell number and tells me to text or call him if I ever want to talk. It’s all so overwhelming. Don’t get me wrong, I love attention. But controlled stage related attention. This is too much even though I know people are only trying to help. 

Lunchtime is a bit of a shitshow too. Clint starts making a dumb joke about how close Sam and I are and asking Sam if he’s gay too. Sam responds as any straight male would do and immediately starts draping himself over Peggy and extolling her virtues. This, in turn causes Nat to go all quiet and grumpy while Bucky just nods at me apologetically and Clint, quite rightly, goes all hangdog. It’s all so weird and awkward and I hate that everything has changed so quickly.

Peggy can obviously sense the tension too because all of a sudden she’s turned on a megawatt smile and giving Clint a poke with her water bottle.

“Clint, why don’t you put all that hard work into finding Nat a boyfriend instead of Steve?” 

She’s trying her hardest to lighten the mood but, given how close Sam is sitting to her and how he’s fawning over her, I think that it’s literally the worst thing she could have said.

“How about no fucking thank you?” Nat replies icily. She stands up, grabs her backpack and makes her exit. Peggy gives me an apologetic look. Clint is looking at Bucky who’s biting his lip and looking in the direction that Nat went. I’m not totally up on my straight guy code but I’m pretty sure that slight blush he’s got going on means that he likes Nat. 

And the thing is, Bucky would actually be pretty perfect for Nat. I could really see them together and that’s a fact that totally pisses me off. They’re both quiet and pretty mysterious and the creative type. They’d look good together too. I think back to my email to Winter about how straight people should have to come out.

“Y’know,” I say, grabbing his attention. “If you like Nat then just ask her out,” 

His blush deepens, confirming his obvious crush. I have to get out of here because I really don’t have time for straight people who can’t get their shit together. 

****

When school is finally over for the day, I want to do nothing more than slope off home and hide in my room with my art books and the bag of Hershey’s Kisses that Ma gave me for Christmas. Unfortunately I don’t have that luxury. I have to go to rehearsal. It’s a big one too, our first proper run through with no scripts at all. Ms Parker has gotten a proper pianist to join us rather than just listening to the songs saved to her laptop. It makes the whole thing seem more real when we get down to singing the big group numbers. It feels like there’s a huge cloud of reality hanging over us, reminding us that opening night is now less than a month away. The jitters spread through us all like wildfire. 

I’m trying my best to ignore Rumlow and it’s actually pretty easy. He doesn’t try to talk to me or get me alone and when he’s performing it’s easier to just see him as The Artful Dodger. He’s obviously been practising inbetween being a total shitstain because he’s got every line down pat. He launches into ‘Consider Yourself’ with extreme gusto, prancing around Coulson with such vigour that we all start believing we’re actually standing in a bustling London marketplace. 

There’s a part of the song where he has to leap onto a butcher’s block, do a couple of tap steps and leap back down while a bemused and bewildered Oliver watches. He does it perfectly until a noise at the back of the hall distracts him and he almost lands flat on his face. Coulson just about manages to catch him at the last minute. Peggy turns to see what distracted him and her expression instantly darkens. Everyone goes totally quiet and they switch between staring at the back of the hall and then at me. Everything tells me not to turn around but I ignore it because what else can I do?

Standing at the back of the hall are two guys who I vaguely recognize as being in my Math class. One of them is holding up a sign that says ‘Rogers eats ass’ while the other guy’s more crudely painted sign says ‘One up the bum, no harm done’. There’s giggling coming from the doorway beside them and I can see a few other kids standing near it, one of them hooting with laughter and begging them to stop because “omg guys that’s so funny! I can’t even!”. 

There’s a sound from the stage that’s like a low growl and suddenly Coulson is showing off some serious acrobatic skills of his own as he leaps off the stage and charges towards the guys holding the signs. Peggy is hot on his heels, her face displaying Nat levels of ferocity. The guys turn tail and run, closing the door behind them but, within seconds, Coulson’s wrenching it open and he and Peggy storm out into the hall. All we can hear is footsteps and yelling. Ms Parker hurries out of the hall too and everyone just stands there not really sure what to do next. I slump into the nearest seat. Two sophomore girls from the chorus are by my side instantly, patting my shoulders and talking heatedly about homophobic assholes. Rumlow hasn’t moved from the spot on stage where he almost fell. He’s just staring at the back of the hall, his mouth slightly open, a look of pure terror on his face. I watch as it fades away to something akin to nausea before he rushes off into the wings.

It feels like several hours pass as I sit there with the two sophomores while everyone else pretends I’m not there. Eventually Ms Parker comes back into the hall with Coulson by her side and Peggy close behind. Coulson still looks furious and fired up. He nods at me as Ms Parker leads him back to the stage. She and Bruce chat to him for a moment or two. The sophomores drift away as Peggy smiles sympathetically at me and sits down. 

“People are assholes, Steve,” She says. “But Phil certainly gave them an earful. I thought for a moment he was going to smack them. I was thinking about it too actually. I actually didn’t think Phil knew that many swear words,”

“Thanks, Peg...you guys aren’t getting into any trouble for yelling at them right?” I’m starting to feel like I want to cry but there’s no way in hell I’m going to do that in public. Things are bad enough as it is already. 

“Oh god no. Not that you should be concerned about that anyway Steve. None of this is your fault at all,” she gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Ms Parker dealt with them. I rather think their Mummies are being called right this minute by Professor Fury,” 

Ms Parker suddenly claps her hands to get our attention. She’s standing on the stage. Bruce and Coulson are standing just by the wings and Rumlow is still nowhere to be seen. 

“I’m calling a stop on rehearsals for today folks,” she announces. “I need to deal with this incident. Unfortunately, there are some genuinely deplorable people in our school and I want you all to know that it’s being taken extremely seriously,” I watch her and realise that I’ve never seen Ms Parker look so angry before. She’s fuming. She’s got a reputation for being one of the chillest, laid back teachers in the entire school. I’ve never even heard her raise her voice before. “We’ll pick up where we left off tomorrow. Thank you,” 

She gets down from the stage and comes over to me. She still looks pissed as all hell but she’s also looking concerned as she bends down.

“Are you doing ok Steve?” She asks discreetly as everyone starts grabbing their bags and leaving. They’re still trying their hardest not to look at me. 

“Fine thanks Ms Parker,” I reply. I can feel that my cheeks are burning. This is all so humilIating. I feel Peggy give my shoulder another squeeze.

“I meant what I said up there,” she continues. “I will personally make sure that Professor Fury suspends those boys,” She breathes heavily through her nose. “The little assholes won’t get away with this,” She gives me another nod and marches off up the aisle. I stare after her, marvelling at her 5ft of fury. 

I think it’s the first time I’ve ever heard a teacher cuss like that. 

****

The hall clears out pretty quickly after Ms Parker leaves. I guess everyone’s still feeling pretty awkward and nobody really knows what to say so they all split. Peggy has to wait around for her Ma to pick her up which I feel pretty bad about. She suggests that we head for the music room. Since the football season is about to start up again, the school band is getting back together and, like the football kids, they’re having to try out all over again to get back in.

When we enter the music room we find that most of the auditions are already over and everyone’s just hanging out or messing around with instruments. Sam and Clint are standing by Bucky who’s sitting at a drum kit. They both have guitars slung across their backs. Sam gives Peggy one of his winning smiles as we approach. He turns ever so slightly, throwing on a bit of a pose so that he sort of pushes his guitar forward in the hopes she’ll notice it. It’s honestly really cute.

“It’s strange that you all have to audition again,” Peggy says as she duly admires Sam’s Fender. 

“Meh. Just a formality,” Clint replies with a wave of his hand. “They know we still rock. They just gotta make sure everyone’s got the right instrument. I actually switched to bass this year,” he says, nodding at his guitar. It looks pretty new so I’m guessing it was a Christmas present. 

“So are you guys ditching rehearsal or something?” Sam asks. 

“Or something,” Peggy replies. “I decided it was much more fun to come and ogle some musicians,” she adds with a winning smile of her own. And Peggy’s smile is pretty damn winning. We’re talking megawatts here. Sam grins right back and I’m starting to feel like I’m intruding on some special private moment they’re having. 

“So you still rock huh?” I say awkwardly to Clint. It’s weird, I’ve been sitting at the same cafeteria table as Clint and Bucky all through high school and yet I don’t really feel like I know much about them. We never hang out after school or anything. They’re kind of on the periphery of the squad. 

“Hell yeah,” Clint grins. Bucky nods and pushes some stray hair out of his eyes. I always thought that long hair on guys is pretty awful but Bucky’s shoulder length hair actually suits him. It’s got a kind of natural wave to it and it’s not your usual mop of teenage greasiness. I’ve never really thought about it before but it’s kind of sad we’re in senior year and I haven’t gotten to know them better. Even if Bucky really needs to pull his finger out of his ass and ask Nat out. They’ve both been totally fine with the gay thing, carrying on as if nothing’s changed and that’s really all I ever wanted from coming out. They’re both great guys and it sucks to think we’ll probably end up losing touch.

And I guess I’ve said this before but Bucky is actually pretty damn cute. Like Bruce levels of cuteness. He’s got these really intense eyes. A sort of steely grey colour but they’re actually really warm and inviting. He really would be perfect for Nat. He doesn’t seem to have any kind of airs about him or pretends to be something he’s not. He’s unashamedly him and it matches Nat’s personality perfectly.

“So can they kick you out of the band?” I ask him because Peggy and Sam are still doing their goo-goo eyes thing and Clint is now focusing his attention on his new guitar. Lovingly running his fingers over the frets. I guess all Clint needs in his love life is his Gibson.

“I don’t think so,” Bucky replies. He’s fiddling with a drumstick as he’s talking. He really does look good behind a drum kit. There’s something about his hands. I can’t keep my eyes off them as he plays with the drumstick. I follow the blue veins on the back of his hand to his long fingers that, in another break with teenage boy tradition, end in clean and trimmed nails.

“Clint and I have always gotten back in since we first started in freshman year,” He smiles at me and I feel a little tug in my chest. Sort of like an ache. 

And here’s the thing about that. It makes me feel really guilty. One, because I know he likes Nat and would be great for her, and two, Winter. Even though he still doesn’t want to meet up with me or trade phone numbers. He’s still just words on a screen and yet I feel like having these sort of feelings for someone else is cheating. I’ve never even spoken to him and yet I consider him to be my boyfriend. 

****

Considering everything that’s happened today, I should be in the shittest mood to end all shitty moods. But I’m actually feeling pretty good. Peggy and I spent a great hour with Sam, Clint and Bucky, singing along as they played classic rock tunes. They play so well together they should probably consider being a band outside of the school stuff they play. I’m considering heading to Walmart on the way home so I can pick up some more peppermint Kisses before they leave for another year as well as planning on what to cook Ma for dinner. 

Then I see Rumlow standing awkwardly by my car and that mood is destroyed instantly. 

“I’ve been waiting for a while,” He says as I approach him. I’m tempted to just get into my car and drive away without even acknowledging him. But I’m suddenly way too angry to do that. 

“Oh jeez. I’m so fucking sorry about that,” I say. “Why are you waiting around for me anyway? It should be clear that I have absolutely nothing to say to you,” 

“Um, well,” He’s looking so awkward and kind of upset. He never came back into the auditorium after he ran out and he honestly looks like he’s spent the afternoon blowing chunks in the bathroom. “Look, Steve…I seriously owe you an apology”

“No shit,” I snort. Because really? He’s only just realised that now? How about not being a complete gaping asshole to begin with? 

“I really didn’t think...I guess...that people would like, react like that...and back in the auditorium…” 

“Seriously Rumlow? You didn’t think a bunch of stupid high school kids would act like a dick over somebody being gay?” 

“I just figured, like, it wouldn’t be that big a deal,” He can’t even look at me. He’s staring at his winter boots instead. “My brother never had any...I’m just...look. I’m really sorry,” 

“Yeah, you said that part,” I fire back. 

“My brother really tore into me when he found out. I feel like an utter shit. I was so pissed about this whole Peggy situation and I just wasn’t thinking. And those screenshots? I deleted them weeks ago. I would never have posted them. I...I don’t know man...I’m just…” He flails, obviously trying to find the magic words that will make this all better. The only problem is that they don’t exist. And I’m done listening to his bullshit.

“Just shut up. I’m done with you. You are a complete and utter fucking asshole Brock and I don’t believe for one second that you didn’t realise the consequences of your actions. You knew exactly what you were doing when you fucking blackmailed me into talking you up to my friend. Don’t stand there and act like you didn’t know this was the possible endgame of you acting like a total turd.”

I know that he’s about to open his mouth in some crappy attempt to defend himself. I shake my head and don’t give him the chance. Because fuck him. 

“No Brock. Don’t. I swear to fucking god I’ve never been this angry with anyone before. Do you even realise the depth of what you’ve done to me? Coming out is meant to be something that I choose. I choose when and where to do it and who gets to find out. Except you’ve taken that all away from me now. You’ve fucking stolen it. And you know what? That’s not even the worst of it. You actually brought Winter into it too. Well fuck you Brock Rumlow. Fuck! You!” 

I shove him out of the way and get into my car. I watch in my rear view mirror as he gapes at me for a moment before slowly shuffling away. There’s none of his usual acting behind any of it. No bigging up his emotions for a laugh. He genuinely looks shattered. I put my key in the ignition and stare at the steering wheel. And then I break down.


	6. Chapter 6

** Chapter Six **

From:  [ jasontoddstires@gmail.com ](mailto:haleyscircusboy@gmail.com)

To:  [ wintersoldier36@gmail.com ](mailto:wintersoldier36@gmail.com)

Subject: Winter has come-eth 

And with total vengeance. Well. Mini-vengeance I guess. I’m actually kind of hoping that the snow carries on and we all get the rest of the week off from school. The first day back has always been a bit weird but this first day back definitely tops them all. Remember all those emails where I complained about being tired? Well, I guess I didn’t know the real meaning of tired because I swear I’ve never been this completely exhausted before. 

Do you ever feel such an all consuming anger that you don’t know what to do with yourself? Like you want to scream, and cry and hit something all at the same time? But you don’t know which one would be the most satisfying? And then, do you ever feel bad for getting that angry in the first place? 

I don’t think I can take much more of this weirdness that is my life now. 

Love, Cap

  
  


From:  [ wintersoldier36@gmail.com ](mailto:wintersoldier36@gmail.com)

To: jasontoddstires@gmail.com

Subject: RE: Winter has come-eth

Cap,

It sounds like you’ve had a really shitty day there. I wish there was something that I could do to make it all better for you. That’s the hard part about communicating this way. There’s only so much words can do via a screen. Hopefully you’ve found your way to a nice, relaxing bag of Hershey’s Kisses and are currently basking in their calming and soothing deliciousness. Yes, you’ve got me hooked I’m afraid. The peppermint ones really are peak tastiness. 

But hey Cap, if you’re angry about the thing that I think you’re angry about then no, you absolutely shouldn’t feel bad about it. 

Which leads me into the thing that I’ve been trying to get the courage to tell you all day. Seriously, I kept picking up my phone to send you an email and then kept deleting it. I figured that it would be the last thing you need right now. The timing completely sucks Cap and I’m so sorry but I think this needs to be said. 

I’m 99.9% certain that I know your secret identity. 

Love, Winter

  
  
  


From: jasontoddstires@gmail.com

To:  [ wintersoldier36@gmail.com ](mailto:wintersoldier36@gmail.com)

Subject: RE: Winter has come-eth

  
  


Holy fucking shit Winter! This is...well, pretty huge! I hope you weren’t worried that I was going to be upset. I’m anything but right now. And, if we’re being honest, I’m pretty certain about who you are too. 

For funsies, let’s play a little guessing game! 

  1. Your name begins with B
  2. You share a name with a comic book character 
  3. You’re awesome at drawing
  4. You’re a science nerd 
  5. You once pushed me down a school hallway on a chair



Love, Cap

  
  
  


From:  [ wintersoldier36@gmail.com ](mailto:wintersoldier36@gmail.com)

To:  [ jasontoddstires@gmail.com ](mailto:haleyscircusboy@gmail.com)

Subject: RE: Winter has come-eth

  1. Yes
  2. Yes although not the first character most people would think of and I think if they did it would be the cartoon series first…
  3. God no. I’m terrible at drawing. Seriously, I’m worried Becca is going to be scarred for life if she ever asks me to draw with her
  4. Not really. I’m ok at Biology and Chemistry but I totally suck at physics. I’m more of a history buff.
  5. Never unfortunately. 



I’m really sorry Cap. It looks like I’m not the person that you think I am. 

Love, Winter

  
  
  


From:  [ jasontoddstires@gmail.com ](mailto:haleyscircusboy@gmail.com)

To:  [ wintersoldier36@gmail.com ](mailto:wintersoldier36@gmail.com)

Subject: RE: Winter has come-eth

Oh. Wow. Yeah. I guess I really dropped the ball on this one. 2 for 5. Hopefully it doesn’t make things weird or awkward between us now. Maybe you’ll end up being wrong about who I really am? 

Although I think I’m grasping at straws with that one. You probably saw the tumblr post before it got taken down too. Seems like the whole school did. I’m such an idiot. 

Love, Cap

  
  


From:  [ wintersoldier36@gmail.com ](mailto:wintersoldier36@gmail.com)

To:  [ jasontoddstires@gmail.com ](mailto:haleyscircusboy@gmail.com)

Subject: RE: Winter has come-eth

Cap,

Are you talking about the high school tumblr thing? I don’t think I’ve ever looked at it. I heard it mostly just nonsense gossip and people showing off about their totally awesome weekends or whatever. Not really my cup of tea. But you have got me concerned. What was on there? Is that why you’ve been so upset lately? 

I don’t think I’m mistaken about you though. There’s only one boy in Mr Phillips english class that would put so much effort into getting a Jason Todd halloween costume so factually accurate. 

Love, Winter

  
  
  


******

  
  


Well, the cat’s out of the bag as people like to say. I knew, deep down, that I’d really been stupidly careless when I accidentally let slip that my English teacher is Mr Philips. 

I really called the whole Bruce thing wrong. I literally have no idea what I must have been thinking. I was working off a Superman t-shirt for god’s sake. It’s a common enough logo and it’s something a lot of people who aren’t even into the comics buy. And what else? A gut feeling that Winter was Bruce. Not exactly hard evidence. 

The next morning I sit in the school parking lot and, like Winter was doing yesterday, I write and delete an email multiple times before I finally get the courage to press send. Afterwards, I still don’t want to get out of my car and face the world so I sit there, flicking between Instagram and my Gmail app, constantly refreshing it and checking for notifications that I may have missed. I don’t know how Winter doesn’t know about the tumblr post but I’m actually really relieved that he didn’t see it. 

When I do finally make it into school, it’s like I’m on autopilot. I wasn’t lying when I told Winter that I’m totally exhausted these days. I feel like, for the most part, I’m wandering around in this strange funk. It’s been that way since I first saw the tumblr post. It’s a wonder I still remember where the classrooms are. And it’s a complete blessing that I have no lines for the play. God knows how I’d even begin to recall what they are. I’m pretty sure there’s some homophobic stuff written on the outside of my locker but I don’t really take any of it in. It just washes over me and I’m finding it hard to care. 

Winter is all that’s really in focus right now. I’m hoping for a reply to my email. The email where I asked him to tell me who he really is. After all, it’s only fair. He knows who I am. I was honestly expecting him to reveal himself in the email where he revealed he knew who I am. I’m a little bit hurt that he didn’t. He gets to drift around still being anonymous whereas I’m looking for him everywhere. For some sign that he’s watching me or something that could be a message from him. My heart leaps when Peggy passes me a note in English, because surely it would be English right? That’s how he found out. Only it’s not from him at all. It’s some silly picture of a dancing hotdog that Clint has done that’s being passed around our squad. I resist the urge to screw it up and toss it over my shoulder. 

When the final bell rings and the school day is over, I feel like bursting into tears. I was so sure something was going to happen. It’s like that feeling you get when there’s an hour left of Christmas Day and you’re not going to get that thing you’ve coveted for the whole year that you were secretly hoping your Ma had hidden away to reveal at the last moment. 

****

  
  


The very next day at rehearsal, Bruce pulls me to one side and says he’s got something to tell me. His eyes shine with hope as he tells me that he’s bisexual and that he thinks we should get together and hang out at Starbucks sometime. I stare at him, completely thrown for a loop, as he gives me that serene smile of his. He’s so sweet and kind and genuine. I know that he would be an amazing boyfriend but, and it’s a very big but, he’s not Winter. 

Winter. The same Winter who still hasn’t responded to the email that I sent him. 

Peggy catches me at the end of rehearsal. Sam is waiting for her at the back of the auditorium which is a pretty interesting development. She smiles at him and he smiles back and it’s like they’re sharing a moment again. I’m getting the feeling there’s been some Whatsapp activity between them that’s been off the group chat. 

“So Bruce huh?” Sam grins at me and gives me a nudge. “You’ve kept him quiet. A little birdy tells me that-“

“Ssh!” Peggy says quickly, rolling her eyes and shaking her head at him. She’s trying to act mad but it’s really coming across as fondness. I’m really glad that Nat isn’t here to witness any of this. “I’m sorry Steve. Was it supposed to be a secret?”

“Nope,” I say. “Not a secret. Not anything at all actually,” 

“We’ll see about that,” Sam says as Bruce walks past me and gives me a friendly nod. “Trust your Uncle Sam! He knows these things,”

It’s supremely weird that, in the space of a couple of weeks, Sam has gone from having no idea that I’m gay to trying to match make for me. How do I even begin to explain to them all about Winter? That I already have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who’s first name I don’t know. Apart from the fact that it starts with the letter B and is shared by an obscure comic book character that’s more known as a cartoon character?

Except, at this point, I’m wondering if I can still even call him my boyfriend. He’s giving me the distinct impression that he liked me a lot more before he knew who I was. 

  
  


*****

  
  


From:  [ jasontoddstires@gmail.com ](mailto:haleyscircusboy@gmail.com)

To:  [ wintersoldier36@gmail.com ](mailto:wintersoldier36@gmail.com)

Subject: Please

  
  


I’m trying to understand it Winter. I really am. In a way I know it makes sense. I was stupid enough to give myself away. That doesn’t mean you have to tell me who you are. I know what it’s like to feel like you’ve been pushed into a reveal before you’re ready. 

At the same time, I feel like we’re getting to the point that anonymity isn’t right between us anymore. We’ve been through a lot together, told each other all kinds of things we wouldn’t dream of telling anyone else. I’m sorry if this seems selfish Winter but I want to know the real you. 

Love, Steve

  
  


From:  [ wintersoldier36@gmail.com ](mailto:wintersoldier36@gmail.com)

To:  [ jasontoddstires@gmail.com ](mailto:haleyscircusboy@gmail.com)

Subject: RE: Please

Steve,

First of all, please don’t call yourself stupid. You’re really not. I’m the one who’s sorry Steve. I really don’t know what else I can say. 

Besides, things are really starting to work out the way that you wanted them to. So that’s good. 

Winter

  
  


From:  [ jasontoddstires@gmail.com ](mailto:haleyscircusboy@gmail.com)

To:  [ wintersoldier36@gmail.com ](mailto:wintersoldier36@gmail.com)

Subject: RE: Please

  
  


Winter, 

I gotta say I have absolutely no freaking clue what you’re on about. Right now, nothing is working out the way I want it to. 

I’m sorry I keep nagging you about the phone thing and telling me who you really are. I won’t do it anymore I promise. It was really unfair of me. The thing that’s really tearing me up at the moment is that since you found out who I am, our emails have been different. Pretty much non existent and almost formal in the way you talk to me. So if there’s something I am going to beg you about, it’s can we get back to the way things were before? 

This is so awkward and I understand that. If this change is because you don’t find me attractive now that you know who I am, then I understand and I’ll get over it. But, and I’ve probably never told you this before, I also consider you one of my very best friends and I would hate to lose that part of our relationship.

How about we pretend that none of this stuff with the awkward reveal ever happened and just go back to normal? 

Steve

  
  


*****

  
  


So I may have told Winter that I’m going to stop nagging him to reveal who he is but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop thinking about it. The second I finish sending him my reply, I flop back on my bed and stare at my ceiling. Ma’s on a night shift so the house is completely quiet. If Winter isn’t going to tell me who he is, then I’m going to have to work it out for myself. Ever since he answered my questions when I tried to guess who he is, I’ve been thinking about what he said and trying to piece the clues together. I’m pretty sure I’ve been doing not so great in classes because I find myself thinking about them all the time. Picking over them to see if there’s something I could’ve missed. Something that will clue me into who he is. 

His name begins with B and he shares it with a very obscure comic book character. I’ve tried Googling and, obviously, you search comic book character beginning with B and you get Bruce Wayne. He also mentioned that most people would know the character from a cartoon show rather than a comic but I don’t even know where to start searching for that. It seems there’s endless obscure kids cartoons that people remember or misremember. 

So what else do I know? He’s half-Jewish. He’s a good writer. Doesn’t really socialise all that much. He’s a virgin who likes Superman and enjoys Hershey’s Kisses. His parents are divorced and he’s a big brother to a little fetus called Rebecca. His Dad lives in Indiana. He’s ok at science but terrible at physics. 

And then I suddenly realise. I’m trying to lay here and work out who the hell Winter is, but when I think about it, I don’t really know the answers to these questions when it comes to my friends. I know that Sam’s parents are doctors and that Peggy’s are personal trainers. But what about Nat? I realise I have no idea what her Ma does for a living and why her Dad isn’t around anymore. I don’t know how Peggy ended up coming to the US from the UK or whether it’s even a permanent thing. It’s weird because I’ve always thought of myself as the friend who was into everyone else’s business. As it happens, it clearly wasn’t the right business. I’ve prided myself on being such a good friend. Being the glue that holds our squad together but really, I’ve actually been pretty fucking terrible.

And my thoughts come back to Winter again. Except now they’re tinged with sadness. I think about Inside Out. The movie Ma and me watched during one of our Disney/Pixar binges. I think about Riley’s memories slowly turning from joyous yellow to depressing blue. That’s what my thoughts about Winter are doing. I’m trying my damnedest to find out who he is and yet it’s actually completely pointless. He’s not interested now he knows I’m me. And yeah, I tried to play it cool in that email. Act like it’s whatever, I’ll get by. Except I have no fucking clue how to do that. This is definitely not whatever. It really fucking sucks. 


	7. Chapter 7

** Chapter Seven  **

There’s a plastic Walmart bag hanging on my locker when I arrive at school on Monday morning. I’m instantly suspicious. Wondering if this is the latest prank. Maybe it’s filled with glitter or something. What can I say? The assholes at this school have turned me into a paranoid mess. I open it with caution, not wanting to get a whiff of someone’s sweaty jockstrap or rotten bologna sandwiches.

It’s actually a black t-shirt. I look around. There’s no one obviously waiting for my humiliation or embarrassment. I pull it out. It’s a plain black t-shirt, soft and kind of light feeling. Across the chest is a red bird shaped symbol, not unlike the Bat Symbol. Pinned to the collar is a note written in black ink in printed capitals 

_ Don’t be ashamed to be who you are. I’m pretty sure you know more about Jason than Judd Winick.  _

Just in case it wasn’t completely obvious that it was him, he’s drawn a snowflake in the bottom corner of the note. At least I think it’s a snowflake. He’s right. He’s terrible at drawing. I stare at the shirt again, enjoying its soft feel between my fingers. He’s even chosen the right size. It’s going to be a perfect fit. I itch to hurry to the nearest bathroom, fling off my plain grey t-shirt and put it on. 

I just about manage to stop myself. The t-shirt is great, amazing even. But it’s still weird. He knows I’m me and it weirds me out to think I’m going to walk into a classroom and he’ll be there and he’ll see me in it. It doesn’t make a lick of sense because he sees me all the time. This however, seems a bit more intimate and given our current circumstances, it just doesn’t seem right. I fold it up neatly, put it back into the bag and put it into my locker. 

I’m trying not to let myself feel hopeful all throughout the school day. I think about the t-shirt just sitting in my locker. Obviously I don’t breathe a word about it to anyone but it gives me a giddy little thrill to think about even so. 

The buzz turns to anger when I get to rehearsal. I bump into Bruce and he gives me a lingering smile and suddenly I’m angry. Winter is a fucking coward. He’ll give me a t-shirt to find but he doesn’t have the balls to approach me in person. And then there’s Bruce. Cute, wonderful, adorable Bruce who’s into drawing too. Except Winter’s ruined it all because I just can’t get interested in him. I won’t get to go on a date to the art museum with Bruce. I probably won’t get to go on any dates at all, let alone have a boyfriend. Right now I’m too busy trying to stop being in love with words on my fucking screen. 

  
  


***

  
  


The week rushes by. I feel like my life is suddenly taken over by Victorian England and the characters who inhabit it. We’re rehearsing for an extra hour every single day after school so Ma and I become like ships in the night, I eat most of my meals from the microwave or cereal box and the 90 Day Fiance episodes stay unwatched. Luckily Brock is working too hard in rehearsals to even try to approach me so, most of the time, I just pretend like he’s not there as he camps it up in a cockney accent. 

Friday is our first real performance day. We’ve got two shows on, freshmen and juniors in the morning, sophomores and seniors in the afternoon. It’s meant to be a mock ‘opening night’ so we’re in full costume and there are people actually going around doing hair and makeup. Bruce is rushing around with his headset on, trying to calm the chaos of backstage. He’s got a couple of juniors out front, pinning up the cast list and some stills of Oliver Reed, Mark Lester and Ron Moody from the movie version. Some of the workhouse kids have gone a little too ham on ripping their rags so he’s got Pepper dashing to and fro with a needle and thread. Someone accidentally sits on Brock’s hat so he’s frantically trying to push it back into shape. It’s making the whole thing real. 

I’m doing a couple of extra background roles as well as my Fagin’s boy role. My first costume is for the ‘Boy For Sale’ number. I’m dressed in ragged pants and an old overcoat. The hair and makeup girls descend on me. One of them sprinkles baby powder onto my hair to make it look grey. The other one comes at me brandishing an eyeliner pencil, telling me its mandatory. I back away. I kind of have this thing about my eyes in that I don’t like anything getting near them. I already begged Ms Parker to let me wear my glasses instead of contacts but to no avail. 

Peggy ends up taking over, grabbing the eyeliner pencil and sitting me down on a stool near the wings. I close my eyes and then there’s this weird dragging sensation across my eyelid, like I’m being drawn on. Peggy’s humming a little tune as she does it. I’m not sure whether it’s to distract me or help her concentrate but it works. 

“Do I look like a complete idiot?” I ask her. 

“Not even a little bit,” She says. I feel her thumb move across my eyelid, obviously smudging whatever she’s doing. It should be obvious that I don’t know the first thing about makeup. 

“So...are you guys immigrating over here? Or at your just on an exchange thing”? 

“Emigrating,” She corrects me. “They’re hoping to. My father’s currently on a work visa here but I’m pretty sure they want to settle here.”

“Oh,” I say as she starts on my other eye. “I feel really bad for not knowing that,” 

“Why should you feel bad Steve? I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned it before,” She replies. “You and your friends made me feel so welcome and like I’ve been a part of your group forever. I didn’t really feel the need to talk about it. Now, try not to blink,” She says as she starts on my lower eyelid. 

“Ugh. Trying,” I say because this eyeliner thing is seriously strange and it’s really triggering my eye thing. I try to concentrate on the fact that it’s Peggy and I trust her. After a few seconds, she takes a step back and examines her work. 

“Bloody hell Steve!” She exclaims. 

“Whoa there!” I hear someone from behind her, it’s Angie Martinelli, one of Peggy’s student council friends who’s playing Bet, Nancy’s best friend. 

“Doesn’t he look great?” Peggy says with a smile. 

“Ridiculously hot,” Angie agrees. 

Well obviously I have to see this for myself. I turn around and look at myself in the mirror. My eyes are outlined in soft grey. It looks really weird, especially because I’m used to seeing myself in glasses. Although the outlining really does make my eyes pop. 

“Just you wait until Bruce sees you,” Angie says with a grin. 

“Angie!” Peggy replies but she’s smiling too. 

I don’t even try to protest this time. I’m too busy looking in the mirror and wishing that Winter could see me now. 

  
  


****

  
  


The morning performance goes pretty well. The auditorium is packed because everyone’s jumped at the chance of missing class. And because they’re still freshmen and juniors, high school hasn’t sucked away their enthusiasm yet. They laugh and applaud along each scene and it makes it a lot easier for me to forget the stress and exhaustion of the week and power through until curtain down. 

Ms Parker is waiting for us all backstage as soon as we’re out of our costumes. She gives up tips on our performance and what needs improving for the afternoon. Then we get to go and have lunch as normal. Since I don’t want to repeat the eye trauma a second time in one day, I opt to stay in my makeup. It’s kind of weird walking into the cafeteria in my eyeliner with my hair still baby powder grey. But there’s also a part of me that’s excited that Winter might be there and get to see my ‘ridiculous hotness’ as Angie calls it. 

“Holy fucking shit Steve!” Nat exclaims when I sit down with Peggy. She’s staring at me like she’s never seen me before. 

“Isn’t it great?” Peggy grins. To my surprise, Nat actually smiles back at her and agrees. Despite the fact that I thought this was a good idea, I’m starting to feel like I’m on display. Even Clint and Bucky are staring at me. I fidget uncomfortably in my chair. Still I guess it distracts Nat from the fact that, yet again, Sam is sitting next to Peggy and is very hands on with her. I’m going to have to ask Peggy about that when I get a minute alone with her. 

  
  


The afternoon performance is the one that I’ve really been pumped about. I can barely stay still as Ms Parker gives us a quick pep talk and reiterates the improvements she suggested before lunch. Bruce is back to running here there and everywhere getting everyone sorted and back into their costumes. Since we took a full lunch period, there’s an urgency about it all to get ready in time but I’m actually loving it. I don’t know if it’s the sounds of the orchestra warming up or Bruce checking in with everyone, or the fact that I can hear the idle chatter of the audience from behind the curtains, but it’s starting to get that magical feeling that the homecoming game had. 

It also might be something to do with the fact that it’s seniors out there which means it’s highly likely that Winter is out there somewhere. I’m still pretty pissed at him but, at the same time, I really want him to see me. I want him to see me looking good and see me doing something that I love. 

Peggy stands with me near the wings. She dares to peek out of the little crack in the curtains and scans the crowd.

“Sam’s there,” She says and she blushes a little. She can obviously tell that I’m about to question her on it because she carries on talking. “And Nat! Clint and Bucky are there too.” 

I glance across at Bruce who’s standing in the other wings at his little podium. He’s wearing his headset and the mic is positioned close to his mouth, obscuring his lips. He’s reading something, lost in his own world of organisation until he frowns, presses one of his earphones into his ear as if he’s listening really hard, his frown deepens and suddenly he walks off, heading towards the auditorium. 

“Steve? Could I talk to you?” Ms Parker is suddenly at our side, her hand on my shoulder. I nod, trying to ignore the sudden sinking feeling in my stomach. Maybe she’s going to give me some last minute pointers for my performance. She guides me away from everyone and into one of the dressing rooms. It looks like a bomb has hit it. There’s bits of makeup and clothes strewn everywhere and countless empty soda cans and donut boxes. She sighs but doesn’t comment. She pulls out one of the stools from the nearby dressing table and motions for me to sit. I’m suddenly very aware that the only other person in the room with us is Brock. He’s standing by one of the other mirrors messing around with his hat and trying to get it to the right jaunty angle for Dodger. He looks at me as I sit down but I look away quickly. I don’t want him thinking that he’s off the hook. 

“Steve,” Ms Parker looks stern and suddenly I know this has nothing to do with the play. I start to feel hot and sick. “I’m afraid there’s been some trouble again,” she says. For a moment she looks done. As if she’s completely had enough of trying to control a bunch of teenagers. “And I wanted to tell you rather than you having to find out by any other means. Someone has altered the cast list that was pinned up,” 

She doesn’t need to say any more. It’s obvious. I’m listed on the cast list as Fagin’s Boy. It really doesn’t take a genius to work out how that’s been edited for so called comedic effect. I hear a sharp gasp from Brock as the penny drops for him a few seconds later. 

“What the fuck?” He mutters quietly.

Not quietly enough. Ms Parker shoots him a look but almost instantly she’s back to me.

“There was also a terribly crude drawing,” she continues with a heavy sigh. “Bruce is currently removing everything-“

“Are you cancelling the performance?” I ask because, god, I really don’t want to have to deal with more attention. Like I said, stage attention is fine, but cancelling a whole performance because someone’s been an asshole to me? No thanks. 

“Not unless you want me to,” 

  
  


“No. No. It’s fine,” I say. “The show must go on,” I try to give a hearty laugh but it comes out way more forced than I intended it to. Ms Parker squeezes my shoulder and nods at me. “You can take an extra ten minutes to calm down,” she says gently. “I need to talk to the audience anyway” 

Before I can argue, she’s gone. I stare at the door not wanting to look at myself or Rumlow. My heart feels like it’s racing but, other than that, I don’t know what I feel. Sad? Angry? Resigned? I can’t keep a hold of any of them. I hear Rumlow’s footsteps approach me. He stands beside me for a minute, obviously struggling for something to say. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. “I’m so, so, so sorry Steve,” 

“Shut up,” I growl at him as I stand up. I still don’t know what I’m feeling but I know I don’t want to stay in this room with him. “Just fucking shut up.” 

  
  


******

By the time I reach the wings, I’ve landed on angry. That kind of quiet angry that you always fear from your parents. I’m just so fucking sick of it all. I really admire Nat at times like this. She glides through life not giving a fuck what other people think of her. She’s bold and brave and isn’t afraid to be herself. I’ve been telling myself constantly over the last week that I’m like that too. That it’s senior year and I don’t give a single shit about what any of these idiots do and say about me. It’s great while it lasts. It all comes crashing down when I realise that I do care. I care a lot. I always fucking care. 

Peggy’s full of sympathy. She comes up to me and gives me a quick hug as Ms Parker addresses the entire auditorium. She’s usually a pretty easy going approachable teacher but now her face is set in stone. 

“Silence!” She demands so sharply into the mic that, probably for the first time in the entire history of high school, she gets it instantly. “Most of you know me. For those who don’t, I’m Ms Parker, the drama teacher. You’re all here this afternoon to get a special look at the play we’re putting on next week. Before you can enjoy the fruits of the cast and crew’s labour, I need to address something very important. It’s come to my attention that some people in this school do not understand the meaning of a zero tolerance policy.”

It’s almost magic the way you can see her instantly losing everyone’s interest as soon as she says the word ‘policy’. People start to groan and chatter amongst themselves. Someone yells ‘quiet’ in a perfect impression of Professor Fury. A few people burst into giggles. Ms Parker folds her arms across her chest and gives the entire auditorium a scathing look that’s actually pretty terrifying. Most people are quiet straight away but there’s a few idiots that take a little longer to catch on. 

“As you’re all aware, our school has a strict zero tolerence anti bullying policy but, judging by recent behaviour, I think we need to review that policy,” 

She loses them again. Of course she does. Nobody wants to listen to a lecture about how bullying is wrong. Sometimes I think it must really suck to be a teacher. Peggy’s holding my hand as Ms Parker talks. I’m concentrating so hard on not breaking down that I don’t even notice Bruce approaching us.

“Hey,” he whispers, making us both jump. “Sorry! I just wanted to tell you I took all that garbage down,” he fumbles in the pocket of his jeans. “I want you to have this, hopefully it’ll help cheer you up a bit,” he passes me a folded up piece of paper and hurries away before I can thank him. Peggy releases my hand and I notice how much they’re both trembling as I unfold the paper. 

It’s a comic strip. A cute chibi style Batman yelling at four Robins. Each of them are responding exactly like they would in the comic books. He’s nailed their personalities perfectly, Dick’s carefree humour, Jason’s sass, Tim’s logic and Damian’s pomposity. I can’t help but grin. Peggy gives me a look but I shake my head, folding the paper up and putting it in my pant pocket. I’m not going to forget to take it out after we get our costumes off. It’s one of the nicest things I’ve ever been given. It’s right up there with my birthday drawing from Nat. 

Ms Parker steps back into the wings. She looks determined. 

“Let’s get out there and give them a show,” there’s an intense look in her eyes. She gives me a nod. 

The auditorium lights dim and the stage lights come on. The orchestra strike up their first number and suddenly the curtain rises and everyone steps out. I’m going to forget about everything that happened recently. For the next two hours I’m going to give this all I’ve got. I’m just going to be. I step out with them.

  
  


*****

I don’t know why, but the minute I step off stage for my last scene, it suddenly hits me. 

Brock Rumlow. 

A name beginning with B. Shares the name of a somewhat obscure comic book character. But it can’t be right? There’s no fucking way that it can be possible. 

I sit down at the nearest dressing table again. All around me the rest of Fagin’s Boys are taking off hats and fingerless gloves, wiping away makeup with washcloths and chattering excitedly about how well the performance went. Everyone around me is crazy amped up. One of the guys has stashed chocolate coins in the coin purses we wear around our hips and he’s throwing them across the room. Two others are conducting a mock fencing match with thier wooden crutches. I shut them all out. I’m thinking about the boy who’s up on stage right now, prancing with the guy playing Fagin as they consider giving up their life of crime following the tragic events of the play. Other than the fact that he’s a massive attention whore and a total asshole, what do I really know about Brock? 

He’s frequently socially idiotic but there’s no denying that Brock is smart. He could be smart enough to be Winter. I have no clue if his parents are separated or whether or not he’s Jewish. He has an older brother though but I guess he could’ve been lying about Becca being his first sibling. It would definitely be a way to throw me off the scent...but then, Brock’s not gay right? He can’t be. He isn’t. He’s into Peggy. But then, that doesn’t mean anything. Bruce is bi…

“Noooo!” Peggy wails dramatically as she enters the dressing room. She’s still wearing the ripped version of her Nancy costume and it’s covered in fake blood. “You’ve washed off your makeup!” 

“So you mean I’m no longer ridiculously hot?” I tease. Despite how gross and sick I feel right now, I’m scrambling for some sense of normality. Because Brock isn’t, isn’t, isn’t Winter. I refuse to entertain that shit any longer because it’s fucking ridiculous.

“So,” Peggy grins at me. She’s got that look in her eyes like she’s planning something. Almost as if she senses I need an out from my own head right now. “Sam’s waiting for us outside, we’re going on an adventure!” 

“Adventure?” I raise an eyebrow. “What sort of adventure?”

“We don’t know yet. That’s part of the adventure! My parents are away for the weekend. I have the car and the house. Time for you guys to spend the night in Carter territory!”

“What’s the occasion?” I ask as I look at myself in the mirror. I’m still wearing my contacts so I don’t feel like I look fully myself. I actually kind of like that idea. I decide to leave them in and try to scrub as much baby powder out of my hair as possible. 

“No rehearsal for the first time in forever,” Peggy replies. “It’s definitely worth celebrating,” She gives me a wink. “And also, you’ve had kind of a crap day,” 

I almost laugh at that. She really has no idea. Still, I try my best to get caught up in her mood as she hurries me out of the dressing room and across the parking lot. I really, really want to forget about this whole Brock could be Winter thing. It’s still just too bizarre and horrible to even properly contemplate. If he’s really Winter, that means he was the one who wrote that beautiful poem about feeling adrift. My amazing sensitive writer. He’s the one that I’ve been opening up to all these months. In a way, it’s almost believable. I can see why he wouldn’t want to come out. Especially now. Maybe that’s why Winter’s gotten so weird with me lately? 

“Starbucks first for fuel,” Peggy says, “Then we’ll find somewhere to have dinner,” 

“Yeah,” I reply mindlessly as she leads me out of the dressing room by my elbow.

None of it makes sense. 

Peggy’s mention of Starbucks makes me remember those afternoons. Our little rehearsal sessions where I felt like I was getting to know him more. I was actually starting to like him right before everything started to go wrong. It was so strange. He was supposed to be the enemy and yet he’d started feeling like a friend. Maybe that was his endgame all along. Although, he never really gave me the impression that he liked me that way. Unless I was too blind to see it? There’s no denying I’ve only had eyes for Winter recently. Maybe he was being completely obvious and I was too wrapped up thinking Winter was Bruce. No. I can’t be that. 

Can it? 

Unless maybe...No. 

Oh god. 

Winter can’t be a prank. I refuse to believe it. Surely nobody, not even Brock Rumlow and his blackmail, would be that cruel? 

I can’t even begin to think about how I would deal with it if it turned out to be some sick joke. I don’t even want to think about it. Entertaining that thought for even a moment means there’s a chance that it’s real. 

I can’t think about it. 

I won’t. 

  
  


******

  
  


Sam’s chilling out by Peggy’s car when we make it across the parking lot. She beams at him and he gives her hand a little squeeze as she passes to make for the driver’s seat. I still haven’t asked them what’s going on but, right now, my brain is way too fried to contemplate anybody else’s love life. 

“Did you ask Nat?” Peggy asks as she fumbles in her backpack for the car keys. Sam turns around to look at me and I shrug. He looks away from a moment before he visibly deflates. I’ve known him long enough to know exactly what he’s thinking. We love Nat. Of course we do. She’s our oldest friend. It’s a completely awkward situation because, since Peggy arrived on the scene, Nat’s presence can sometimes change the whole mood. She’ll be moody and snarky about Sam and Peggy’s little PDAs. She’ll be weird about going to Starbucks. When she gets in one of her quiet moods, it can be kind of catching. None of us are really in the mood to feel awkward and deflated right now. Peggy and Sam clearly want to enjoy whatever is going on between them and I just want to stay away from anything negative...

But Nat also really hates being excluded. 

We stare at each other for a few seconds. Neither of us really wants to be the one to make the call. Finally, Sam gives a little shrug and turns around to look out of the windscreen feigning a sudden interest in the people spilling out of the auditorium.

“Let’s make it just us three,” He says eventually. I can tell from his tone that he’s feeling kind of shitty about it. At the same time though, I’m pretty sure I was about to make the same call. 

“Ok.” Peggy replies. “Wagons roll!” 

  
  


***

  
  


I’ve not really been in Peggy’s car all that much. She shares it with her Ma so she doesn’t get to use it very often. It’s got a kind of homey feel to it. I’ve always imagined Peggy’s parents to be very prim and proper because I guess that’s the stereotype of British people. The backseat of the car is a delightful mess. There are empty coffee cups at my feet, and a plastic bag straining with file folders beside me. It occurs to me that I’ll get to see her house tonight. After my revelation that I don’t really know all that much about my friends, it’s nice to think that I’ll soon be able to peek through that window into her life. 

We start off, as planned, at Starbucks. There’s a new drink on the menu so all three of us get the same thing. From the squashy couches, we make our plan for the evening. We’re all pretty hungry and Peggy wants to shop for a while first so, after Starbucks, we make our way to a small ice cream place. I feel a small pang as I order a triple chocolate cup decorated with Hershey’s Kisses. I guess I must visibly deflate too because as soon as we’ve finished up, Peggy pulls me by the hand into an international food store. 

She grabs a little wire basket and leads us straight to the British aisle where she spends a good few minutes throwing things into the basket and excitedly telling us how great Worcester Sauce crisps are and how we haven’t lived until we’ve tried Yorkie chocolate. Sam seems happy enough, picking up random snacks and asking her what they are while she shakes her head fondly at him. 

I’m trying my damndest to join in and not think about Winter. 

And how Winter might be Rumlow. I still can’t think about that as a possibility. 

From the food store, we go to a quirky vintage clothes store. Peggy buys herself a new skirt while Sam picks up a Mountain Dew hoodie. I’m feeling far too rattled to have a proper browse although I do spy some 1930s era leather boots which I really like but they’re way out of my price range. I guess since hipsters became a thing the price tag for retro things has gone way up. 

Our next step is this bookstore that’s actually pretty cool. It has a whole LGBT section. Like a whole corner of the place kind of section. Peggy finds a really cute book about a polar bear who has two daddies and insists that I need it in my life. We’re starting to get hungry by this point so, after buying the book for me, she herds us back to the car and tells us she’s found a really great restaurant that she’s always wanted to try. She drives with confidence and manages to nail parallel parking the first time which makes me think that she’s some kind of driving wizard. I don’t even want to think about how many times I’ve tried and failed. 

She takes my hand and Sam falls into step beside us as we walk down the street. Finally she stops in front of a restaurant called Jarvis’ Spot. A quick glance towards the parking lot confirms why we had to park further down the street. It’s completely full. The restaurant itself is bedecked with strings of twinkling lights. A rainbow banner is hung below the sign. 

“So this is a gay bar?” I asked, wide eyed. Peggy just grins at me and squeezes my hand. Then it hits me. It’s an actual real life bar sort of bar. What with my total inability to grow facial hair, Sam’s baby face and Peggy’s thread friendship bracelets, there’s no way we’re going to pass for twenty one. 

Sam totally catches me before I can start freaking out.

“Don’t worry man, it’s a restaurant too, we’re getting dinner,” 

They’ve obviously planned this together which makes me think yet again that I really need to find out what’s going on there. They’re obviously hanging out just the two of them outside our squad lunches. In and out of Whatsapp. 

We walk through the entrance, under the rainbow banner, and suddenly I’m distracted from thoughts of Peggy and Sam. It’s packed inside and there are any number of guys in fedoras and skinny jeans, leaning against the bar and chattering in groups. You can’t escape the black plastic framed glasses and scarves. But they’re cute. They’re all really cute and it’s so overwhelming. Lots of them have piercings or elaborate tattoos. The wait staff are rushing to and fro, squeezing between the groups with trays loaded with beer and bar snacks. 

“Hey guys,” Suddenly there’s a host standing in front of us and, god damn, he’s seriously cute too. There’s gotta be something in the water at this place. He smiles at us, oozing charm. “Just the three of you?” I nod wordlessly and his smile grows wider. His hand rests on my shoulder for a moment and my stomach does a somersault. “It’ll just be a couple of minutes,” 

There’s a row of black leather seats to the side for people waiting to be seated. Sam and Peggy sit down immediately and Sam grabs a nearby menu. I feel too wired to sit down. This place is a riot for the senses. It feels like some kind of nightclub and it’s hard to remind myself that this is just a restaurant. I’ve been in dozens of restaurants before. I scan the room again and accidentally make eye contact with a seriously hot guy wearing a tight blue t-shirt. I can feel myself going red. I look away quickly. 

“I’m heading to the bathroom,” I say. I need to cool down because I’m starting to feel like I’m going to self combust if I keep staring. 

I make for the bathroom, following the signage and pushing my way through the crowds. I’m almost there when somebody at the corner of the bar suddenly taps me on the shoulder. 

“Johnny?” 

I turn around quickly and start to say that I’m not Johnny but the guy beats me to it.

“Oh. You’re not Johnny,” he says. He doesn’t really sound disappointed. “But you have Johnny hair,” He reaches up and runs his hand through my hair. It doesn’t feel wholly unpleasant. He’s a lot older than I am, with jet black hair and a friendly smile. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and regular jeans. He’s holding a glass of clear liquid and, judging by the way he’s swaying a little, it’s not water. “So what’s your name Not-Johnny?” 

“Steve,” I say. 

“Stevie Wonder!” He says with a giggle. Yeah. He’s definitely been drinking. “I’m Reed,” He adds. I instantly think of Arthur Reid, beloved aardvark. “And I’m buying you a drink!,” He announces. He summons the barman over and within seconds I’m holding something red in a tall glass. I give it a cautious sniff. “Strawberries!” Reed crows. He giggles again and sings a line from the Beatles song, ‘Strawberry Fields Forever’. The guy is extra as hell but I can’t walk away.

I take a sip of my mystery drink and I actually quite like it. It’s way better than beer. Nice and sweet and slides down a whole lot easier. I feel a strange feeling wash over me. I’m out of my comfort zone, completely out of it, but I’m finding that I don’t actually mind so much. And Reed really is quite cute. He’s smiling at me and saying something but the music has suddenly changed to something loud and disco so I have to lean forward. He smells like mint and oranges. 

“Are you in college?” 

“Oh, yeah,” I say, tipping back some more of my drink. We’re standing a lot closer together now. The hands that are wrapped around our respective glasses are almost touching. I’m starting to feel a buzz. The same buzz I did at Tony’s party. I don’t know if it’s the atmosphere or what’s in the drink, but it feels more intense. 

“Same,” Reed replies. He tips back his head and drains the rest of his drink in one. “One sec,” He says as he turns back to the bar and summons the barman again. I take the opportunity to scan the room for Sam and Peggy. They must have been seated by now. And they’re probably wondering where I am. Despite the size of the place I find them almost immediately, seated at a corner table and their eyes are on me. They look a little wary. Peggy notices me staring and starts waving. I beam at her and wave back because I’m starting to feel pretty darn awesome. 

I’m suddenly aware of Reed’s hand on my arm. He presses another glass into my free hand. This time it’s a glass containing something purple. It smells and looks like flu medicine. I’m nowhere near done with my delicious strawberry concoction but I decide to throw caution to the wind and chug it. Reed takes the empty glass and puts it on the bar where the barman, who is also totally cute, whisks it away as quick as a wink and replaces it with two honest to god test tubes filled with green liquid. Reed takes one and passes the other to me before throwing his back in seconds. I take a cautious sip of mine and it’s actually delicious. Sort of fruity. 

“Stevie, precious Stevie,” Reed croons. “One doesn’t simply sip a test tube shot. Or any kind of shot for that matter! This is a classic Wicked Witch, tip your head back and just let her flow!” 

“Oh, ok,” I say and throw it back. It takes me two gulps and with nowhere near the finesse of Reed. At least I don’t spit it in his face or anything like that. I’m being taken over by this new fluttery feeling and I guess it must show on my face because Reed is grinning at me. He pulls me closer to him and threads his fingers through mine. He’s got these really deep brown eyes that you could kind of lose yourself in and I think that’s exactly what I’m doing. I should be hating this because this isn’t me at all. I’m not some social animal. But I’m actually loving every second. 

Even though the music is still throbbing through the room I’m finding it a lot easier to talk. The words are just slipping out and they make Reed laugh and nod and smile at me. I talk to him about Sam and Peggy. I’m trying not to notice how hard they’re trying to get my attention right now. I’m caught up in this moment and I don’t want anything to spoil it. 

“Well Stevie, you’re just going to have to meet the real Johnny now,” Reed says as he gives me yet another shot. This time it’s yellow and smells exactly like lemon drops. He’s still got his fingers linked with mine so he pulls me towards one of the booths against the back wall. There’s two guys and a girl, and both the guys are insanely cute. One of the guys looks like he lives at the gym, muscular with a shaved head. The other is thinner and more toned, in a tight white t-shirt and leather jacket. The girl is as good looking as Peggy, except she’s a blonde. She smiles and gives me a little wave.

“This is my good friend Stevie,” Reed announces. He goes around the table introducing the others, I think their names are Sue and Ben. The only one I’m focused on is Johnny. The real Johnny. And how much we totally don’t look alike. Apparently I have Johnny hair but I don’t know where Reed pulled that one from. Johnny’s hair is blonde but the kind of hair that’s messy on purpose. Like he’s taken half an hour to perfect that ‘just got out of bed’ look. Mine is just straight up messy. 

Everyone scooches around in the booth so that Reed and I can sit down. I finish my shot and instantly Ben slides a beer across the table. It seems like the drinks really flow in this place. Reed’s friend’s are loud and completely hilarious. I’m suddenly laughing so hard that I’ve given myself the hiccups. Reed keeps looking between Johnny and I theatrically, miming double takes and shrieking about doppelgangers. Suddenly Reed’s arm is around my shoulders and he gives me a quick peck on the cheek. It gives me this warm feeling inside. I wonder if this is what it feels like to have a boyfriend? Which, of course, leads me into telling them the saga of Rumlow, my emails and his stupid blackmail plan. It should make me mad but it doesn’t. It’s actually pretty hilarious if you think about it. Sue’s non-stop giggling and Ben is full on belly laughing. It feels amazing to hold their attention like this. They’re a bunch of college students and here they are laughing with me like we’re the best of friends. 

“So Stevie, are you in high school?” Reed suddenly whispers in my ear.

“A senior,” I confess through a hiccup. 

“So you’re seventeen?” Reed asks. I nod and suddenly he’s shaking his head. “Oh sweetie, no. Where are those friends of yours? Peggy and Sam?” I’m impressed that he’s actually able to remember their names. 

I scan the room again because I seem to have forgotten where they are. I find them and point them out. Suddenly I’m on my feet again and I feel like I’m sort of floating across the room. I’m not sure how it happens but my butt suddenly makes contact with a chair and Peggy and Sam are there and there’s a hotdog in front of me. It looks a little cold but it’s got all my favourite fixings with a hefty side of curly fries beside it. 

“Goodbye Precious Stevie,” Reed says, giving me a quick hug and another peck, this time on both cheeks, “You go and enjoy being seventeen,” 

He stumbles away and Peggy and Sam are staring at me like they don’t really know what to say. It occurs to me just how much I love them. I do. I really do. So much. I’m still feeling really fluttery but now also kind of wavy. It’s weird. 

“How much did you have to drink?” Sam asks. I stare at him and try to think. All I can think of is how fruity and delicious the drinks were. I try counting them on my fingers.

“You need to eat something,” Peggy says, pushing the hot dog plate closer to me. 

“I really love it here,” I announce. Peggy shakes her head at me fondly before cramming a curly fry into my mouth. 

  
  


*****

  
  
  


“Did you see his hair? His actually perfect hair? How long do you think he spends on it? Do you think he just wakes up and it’s naturally perfect because he’s so freaking cute?” I ask. We’re heading back to Peggy’s car and she has her arm around my waist while Sam’s arm is thrown over my shoulders. It’s so great to be walking down the street with my best friends. I love them so fucking much. We’re touching and we’re so close because that’s how close we are. I love being close. 

“Did I mention he’s in college? Like an actual bone fide college guy?” 

“You did indeed,” Peggy says. 

This has been a perfect night. A totally perfect night. Everything has fallen into place and it’s just great. Swell even. It’s a shame that people don’t use that word much anymore. I should bring it back. It’s been a swell evening and I’m feeling pretty darn swell myself. It’s totally different to what I’m used to. No podcasts. No Fallout in Sam’s basement. And I’m not even pining after Winter. We’re out. Just the three of us and we’re living life. The way it should be. Did I mention that it’s swell? 

I can’t stop myself grinning. I smile at people who walk past us because they’re out and living life too. 

“Hey!” I say to a guy who passes us. 

“Honestly Steve,” Peggy shakes her head. 

“You are totally taking shotgun dude,” Sam says once we reach the car. He helps me into the passenger seat and buckles me in. He’s such a great friend. “I’m also gonna open the window cos I don’t think Peggy’s mom is gonna appreciate you blowing chunks in her car,” 

“I’m not gonna puke,” I protest. But that might be spoken a little too soon because, as soon as the car starts up and we’re on our way, I start to feel really sick. I’m glad that Sam cracked the window because the cool night air feels refreshing and helps a bit. I lean back in the passenger seat and let my eyes drift shut as I listen to Peggy and Sam talk about how great the food was at the bar. 

Suddenly, my eyes are open again.

“My shirt! Can we make a stop at my house so we can pick up my shirt?” I ask. 

“That’s completely the opposite direction,” Peggy replies. I totally forgot that she lives far away compared to the rest of us who are clumped together. Fuck. 

“I’ve got an extra shirt in my bag,” Sam says because he’s always prepared like that. “Do you think you’re going to puke on yours or something?” 

“It’s not a shirt you wear,” I try to explain. It’s probably not making a whole load of sense though. It kind of doesn’t make a whole load of sense to me either. It’s just a thing I know I need to do. 

“Dude you are so drunk,” I can see in the rear view mirror that Sam’s shaking his head. 

“Well if you don’t wear it, what do you do with it?” Peggy asks. She’s keeping her eyes on the road but her tone sounds like she’s weirded out too. 

“I sleep with it under my pillow. It’s not weird,” I say.

“I think that’s literally the definition of weird Steve,” I can hear Sam’s eye roll in his tone. 

“It’s a Red Hood t-shirt,” I’m pretty sure I’m whining by this point. “Do you know that nobody ever wants to put Jason Todd in their shows? They wanted Jason in the 90’s Batman animated series but the network said no because his back story is too dark. I mean, it’s Batman! It’s meant to be dark. That’s why we got Tim who’s like a weird amalgamation of the Tim we know and Jason but it’s not enough y’know?”

I catch Sam and Peggy sharing a look in the rear view mirror. I know I’m probably acting a little crazy but all of a sudden, the thought of not sleeping with the t-shirt underneath my pillow feels too terrible to think about. Peggy makes a left at the next exit and I realise she’s turning back so we can go back to my house. 

“You’re awesome Peggy. Really awesome. Have I told you that before? I love you so much. Probably more than Sam does,” 

Peggy bursts out laughing at this and I hear Sam making awkward coughing noises from the back seat. I feel a little bit weird because it’s hard to remember if Sam’s major crush on Peggy is a secret still or if they’re already together. Wasn’t I supposed to ask them? Whatever. I should probably keep talking so they can forget this awkwardness. Only I don’t really trust my mouth anymore. What if I start coming out with the Winter stuff? Or the Brock stuff? Maybe it’s best if I just keep my mouth shut. 

There’s an awkward silence for a couple of minutes before Sam spots some cheesy billboard advertising the latest reality show and he’s off on one of his riffs. 

  
  


****

  
  


I give Peggy a big hug as soon as she’s parked the car in my driveway. I let myself out and the world seems to tilt for a moment or two but it’s bearable. My front door key though, that one takes me a while. It doesn’t seem to want to come out of my pocket. I give it a couple of yanks and finally it's free. Since when did lining up a key with a lock get so damn hard? The lights are on in the living room. I can’t remember what shift Ma is supposed to be doing tonight or if she’s even supposed to be working. 

When I finally get into the house, she’s in the kitchen making grilled cheese. She looks surprised to see me. 

“I’m getting a shirt,” I explain. Something doesn’t sound quite right though so I decide to give it another go. I don’t want to weird Ma out like I did with Sam and Peggy “Obviously I’m wearing one now but this is a special shirt...the one I’m wearing now isn’t special I mean. I’ve come to get a special shirt that I need…”

Ma raises her eyes at me and takes the grilled cheese off the heat. There’s a blast of theme music from the TV in the living room that I recognise instantly. 

“Are you watching Real Housewives? Is that what you do when I’m not here? Watch the worst of reality TV?”

I don’t know what it is but suddenly everything seems so funny and I can’t stop laughing. Only Ma doesn’t seem to be finding anything funny right now. She lets out a sigh.

“Steve. Is there something you want to tell me?” She asks. 

“Yeah! I’m gay!” I say through my giggles. It’s not the right answer. 

“Sit down,” She says, pulling out one of the chairs at the kitchen table. She walks over to the sink and pours me a glass of water. “And drink this. I need to go speak with Peggy for a moment,” She tightens the belt of her bathrobe and she’s gone. 

Why is she going to talk to Peggy? Suddenly nothing is funny. It’s almost like she doesn’t trust me. What the hell? I just have to sit here and drink this water and she gets to talk to my friends like she’s a cop or something? I chug the glass of water, suddenly feeling really thirsty all of a sudden. It feels nice when the coolness hits my mouth. I didn’t realise it was so dry. My stomach feels all churny and my head is starting to hurt. Since when was the kitchen light so damn bright? I cross my arms in front of me and rest my head in them to block out some of the light. I could really do with a nap right now. 

It feels like hours pass before Ma comes back into the kitchen. She sits down opposite me and, as I look up, I catch her nodding at the empty glass. 

“I sent Peggy and Sam home. You’re not going anywhere tonight. We’re going to sit and talk about this because there needs to be consequences,” 

I really want to break down. My life is already a total joke. I’m the punchline at school. There’s a boy that I’m head over heels in love with even though I wish I wasn’t. Oh and he might actually be the guy I hate the most right now. I’m starting to get the mother of all headaches and I’m pretty sure I’m going to spend at least some of tonight with my head in the toilet. I’m pretty sure that’s more than enough consequences. 

“For a start, you’re going to be grounded for two weeks.” Ma explains. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ban you from attending rehearsals. But anything else? It’s straight home after school ok? As for your computer, that’s going to be moving into the kitchen as well. You can use it for school work and only when I’m around,” She adds. “Oh and, I’ll take your phone now,” She says, holding out her hand expectantly. 

I hand my phone over with no argument because I realise that I actually couldn’t give a crap. Everything’s been going so wrong lately that this just all seems inevitable. 


	8. Chapter 8

** Chapter Eight **

As soon as I get into school on Monday, Peggy’s waiting in front of my locker looking worried. She gives me a quick hug.

“Where have you been all weekend? I’ve been texting and emailing. What’s going on?” 

“Nothing. I’m good,” I say. I haven’t really done anything all weekend other than schoolwork and watching TV. My first ever hangover felt like it came straight from hell and, even though I’ve been sleeping a lot, I still feel exhausted. I rub my eyes. 

“Your Mum is intimidating when she’s angry,”

“Yeah, sorry about that. She’s pretty intense about drinking and driving. She sees the consequences all the time in the ER I guess,” I wrench open my locker and start digging through the general junk to find my textbook. “She took away my laptop and my phone. That’s why I’ve been incommunicado all weekend. Oh, and I’m grounded,” 

“The play?” Peggy’s face falls. 

“That’s fine. She said she wasn’t going to stop me going to stuff for that,” 

“Well that’s good,” Peggy sighs deeply. “I’m really sorry Steve. This is my fault,” 

“What is?” Sam asks as he appears from nowhere. I find my book and we head down the hallway towards math class. 

“Steve’s been grounded,” Peggy explains. 

“And it’s not your fault Peg,” I reply. “I was the one who got completely wasted and then decided to flaunt it in front of Ma,” 

“Yeah man, not your best move there,” Sam says. Despite the situation, he’s smiling from ear to ear. It’s not his usual mocking smile. There’s something a little different about him. Then I realize, Peggy’s smiling too. I look down and see that they’re holding hands. They see me staring and grin at each other. Peggy’s cheeks go pink. Sam shrugs. 

“Huh. So you guys didn’t actually miss me all that much on Friday then?” I ask wryly. 

“Not much,” Sam beams. 

*****

  
  


It takes me until English class to finally get the story out of Peggy. We’re supposed to be starting on our practice essays. Shakespeare is the last thing on my mind right now. 

“So tell me everything,” I demand, aware of the cliche I’ve suddenly become. 

“Well,” Peggy looks around to make sure Mr Philips is out of sight. “So after we dropped you off and your Mum talked to me, I was feeling a little upset. She seemed really angry and I hated the thought of her thinking that I would drink and drive-”

“There’s no way she would have let you drive away if she thought that,” I say gently. Ma was overreacting a bit but it could have been much worse. I guess I see that now. 

“After that, I took Sam home. We weren’t really in the mood for the sleepover after that. We were sitting in my car outside his house. We were hoping that your Mum would change her mind and you’d come running down the street. I know it was silly and there was no chance but it didn’t feel right just leaving without you...I sent you a couple of text messages. So did Sam. And then we waited a while,”

“I’m really sorry…”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Peggy’s cheeks go pink again. “The night ended rather well I think,”

  
  


*****

  
  


Lunch goes a long way to cheer me up. Apparently Bucky had a birthday over the weekend which means there’s a cake waiting for him at our table. Nat’s very strict about everyone in our squad getting their own lunchtime cake whatever day a birthday may fall. Although, I’m not sure it even was Nat today because, as it happens, there’s no sign of her during lunch. 

And, come to think of it, she wasn’t around in English or Math either. I dig in the pocket of my jeans before I remember my phone is currently on lockdown. I tap Clint on the shoulder. He’s wearing three plastic top hats on top of one another and he’s eating what looks like a plateful of straight-up icing. 

“Have you seen Nat?” 

“She’s around,” He says evasively. He doesn’t meet my eye and stares at the icing like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. He looks relieved when Tony comes over and starts bugging him for a second piece.

I don’t see Nat for the rest of the day and I’m trying really hard not to worry about it. It gets weirder when I don’t see her the next day either. Clint insists that she’s here and I even see her car in the parking lot. Rehearsal pulls me away before I can camp out by it but, weirdly, her car is still there when we get out. 

I really wish I had my phone. Who knows if there are missed text messages from her? Maybe something’s going on. I risk the wrath of Ma by waiting by her car. She comes out a few minutes later. I’m so relieved to see her, looking as normal as ever, that I race towards her and scoop her up in a big hug. 

“Nat! Where have you been?” I say. She stiffens. She’s never been one for physical contact but she’s never outright reacted this way before. I let her go. “Is, uh, everything ok?” 

She steps back and looks at me with narrowed eyes. She looks so hateful that it takes me aback. It’s the expression she usually wears for the assholes who try to bully any of the squad. It’s full-on derision. 

“I really don’t want to talk to you,” She says coldly. She clamps her arms across her chest. 

“What’s going on?” I’m totally confused. Nat and I had never had a fight before. We can both be moody at times but we fit together. We always have. We’re Nat and Steve.

“How about you tell me, Steve?” She asks. “How was Friday night by the way? I heard you, Sam and Peggy had a lot of fun,” 

Oh. There’s this horrible silence that follows. It feels a mile wide. I’d actually forgotten about that part of the evening. It makes things worse.

“I...I mean, I’m really sorry…” I stutter. 

“Yeah. You sound it,” She huffs. 

“I am,” I reply adamantly. “Is this about Sam and Peggy? Because if it is-” 

“Of course,” She spits sarcastically. It’s her legendary sarcasm. It’s fun to be around but horrible to be on the receiving end. I didn’t think it’s something that would ever happen. “It’s all about Sam and Peggy,” She laughs humorlessly and tries to push past me. “Whatever Steve,” 

“So are we actually going to talk about this?” I ask. She’s getting on my nerves now, treating me like I’m the enemy. “Or are you just going to be all sarcastic and not get to the bottom of whatever the hell is going on? Because I’m really not in the mood to play guessing games here-”

“Oh, poor little Steve,” 

“Forget it,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m already risking getting into more shit by hanging around after rehearsal. I’m going home and, when you’re done being an asshole, come find me and we’ll talk this out,” I move out of her way and turn to leave. I’m trying really hard to ignore the lump that’s in my throat. 

“Great,” She replies. “Well, don’t forget to say hi to your new best friend for me,”

“Nat.” I turn to face her again. “Just stop it.”

She’s trying really hard to stare me down the way she does with everyone at school who tries to give her shit. I’ve seen her do it a thousand times. She stands her ground and never crumbles. Only this time, I can see her trembling and she’s blinking like crazy. Her hands grip her elbows like she’s trying to hold herself together. 

“It’s fine Steve. Perfectly fine. How about the next time you three decide to hang out without inviting me along, just make sure you send me some pictures. You know, so I can pretend that I still have friends?”

There’s this horrible sound. It’s like an aborted sob. She turns on her heels and gets into her car. I watch as she starts the engine and backs out quickly. As I watch her drive away, all I can hear is that sound. Over and over again. 

  
  


*****

  
  


As soon as I get back home and I’ve tossed my backpack in the hall closet, I find that I want to get out. I don’t know where. I just want to walk somewhere. I’m feeling so restless and unhappy and there’s nothing I can do about it. 

This is the first time that Nat’s been truly mad at me. And I hate it. We’ve had the odd fall out before because there’s always some kind of hidden subtext with Nat that I’ve got a bad habit of missing. But it feels so much worse to know she seems to hate me right now. It’s the first time in our friendship that I’ve ever seen her cry. 

I can’t really be bothered with dinner. Ma is at the hospital so I make myself a quick sandwich and go back to staring at my ceiling. There’s some homework that needs doing but I figure most of the teachers will give me a pass because of the play. I can’t bring myself to sit at my desk and do it. So I literally lay on my bed and count how many bobbles are on the textured ceiling. 

I’m not sure how much time passes. There’s a knock at my door and Ma puts her head around it. She wants to talk. As if my day couldn’t get any more frustrating. I nod her in and she sits down at my desk. She’s still wearing her scrubs and her stethoscope is still slung around her neck. She picks up a pen and fiddles with it. 

“Is this the part where you tell me not to get drunk?” I ask.

“Well that goes without saying really,” She replies. “But actually, I’m here because I think it’s time that we have a proper talk. You’ve been busy with school and the play and I’ve been slammed at work and we haven’t really had time to sit down and digest your coming out,”

“Ma…”

“Hear me out, Steve. I need you to know that I love you. I’m worried that that message may have been lost along the way. You’re my beautiful brave son and I’m very proud of you. I would hate to think that you had to hide who you are because you feel like you can’t talk to me. Sometimes with the amount of hours I work it feels like we’re ships in the night,” 

“That’s not why I didn’t want to come out,” I say awkwardly. Because that’s what this conversation is. Awkward as all hell. And I’d really rather not be having it. I’m not really good at this heart to heart stuff with Ma. We’ve just never been that kind of family. 

“May I ask what the reason was?” 

Oh, God. I really can’t go there. 

“I guess there wasn’t a specific reason why,” I shrug. “I knew it was going to end up being this big deal and I didn’t want to have to talk about it,” 

“Do you feel like I was going to make it a big deal?” 

“You’re joking right? You make everything a big deal Ma. When I got my first girlfriend...when I started drinking coffee...when I got the part in the play...it’s not even a lead role. I don’t even have a name. I’m literally ‘Fagin’s Boy’. It’s pretty much a nothing part,” 

“That kind of thing is exciting,” Ma shrugs. “At least it is to me. Those things might not seem very important to you but I’m your mother. You’re not a parent so I suppose it’s going to be hard to understand. It’s like...you have a baby, such a tiny little thing that you carry around for nine months and then when you give birth, they’re so reliant on you for everything. You get to see every single change, the big things and the little things. And eventually, they start to grow up and you stop being able to see it all. Don’t get me wrong Honey. I’m so proud of the man you’re becoming. I just wish that I could still watch it all happen. You were my precious little boy,” 

“Sorry I’m not exactly much of a boy,” I say. 

“Hey now,” Ma’s voice is chastising but she’s not really mad. “You’re the last person I would expect to hear that from. You’re so clued up about that kind of thing. You’re my awesome son Steve,”

“Thanks, Ma,” I mutter. I guess I’m starting to feel a bit better for talking to her and wonder why I didn’t sooner. It doesn’t solve the Nat problem and it’s nowhere near the Winter/Brock problem but it’s good to be reminded that she’s always in my corner. 

“Remember honey, I’m not here to embarrass you or cramp your style in front of your friends. But if you could just maybe keep me in the loop about things? I’ll try to stop making everything into a big deal,” 

“Sounds like a fair deal,” 

“Good,” She smiles at me. “I’ve got something for you,” She digs in the pocket of her hoodie and hands over my cell phone. “Now don’t mistake this for a free pass. You’re still grounded. As for your laptop, well, you can have that back after the play tomorrow as long as you remember your lines,”

“I don’t have any,” I say as I switch my phone back on. It immediately starts lighting up with all of Peggy’s missed texts. I really don’t want to see what there is from Nat. I think it would be worse to see there wasn’t anything at all from her. 

“Well then,” Ma smiles and gives me a wink as she stands up. “Looks like you have nothing to worry about” 

  
  


******

  
  
  


It’s weird how, even though I don’t have any lines, I’m still totally nervous. It’s the twisty, shaky, sick feeling. A mixture of fear and adrenaline. As soon as school finishes for the afternoon, Mrs Parker whisks Peggy, Brock, Phil and the kid who’s playing Fagin away for some extra vocal warm-ups. 

The rest of the cast hangs around the auditorium. Bruce has got all of the backstage folk rushing here and everywhere, taking care of all the last-minute preparations. I’m relieved to be honest. It’s good to just hang around with random seniors who are in the play. There’s no Bruce to make awkward conversation with while he tries to flirt. There’s no confusing feelings about Brock and questioning who he really is. There’s no Nat to stare at me like I’m something she’s just stepped in. 

It’s an hour before curtain up but, when Mrs Parker returns, she wants us all in costume and makeup right away. I get into my rags costume and go into the small dressing room with a few others to wait for Peggy who’s helping with the makeup. By the time she reaches us, she’s clearly in a strange mood. She barely says hello as she starts working her way through everyone, blacking out teeth or painting on wrinkles as required. Finally, it’s my turn. She doesn’t say anything as I sit down in front of her and she rummages in the makeup bag for the eyeliner pencil. 

“So, you nervous?” I ask as she pulls my eyelid taut. 

“A little bit yes,” She replies in a weird clipped tone. I feel the pencil drag across my skin. 

“You’re pretty quiet today,” I say. “What’s going on?” When she doesn’t answer me, I open my eyes and she sighs a little. 

“Keep them closed,” She says as she starts on my other eye. I feel the pencil return and we’re silent for a moment or two. Finally, I hear her sharp intake of breath before she speaks. “So, what happened between you and Brock Rumlow?” 

“Rumlow?” I feel my stomach drop. Ever since the night at the bar, I’ve tried my hardest not to think about that situation at all. No mean feat when you don’t have your cell phone or laptop. 

“He told me everything but I’d rather like to hear it from you,” 

“Everything?” I’m feeling sick again and this time it’s going nothing to do with the play. What exactly does everything mean? “The blackmail?” I ask. 

“Yes. The blackmail,” Peggy repeats. She sighs. “Ok, you can open your eyes now,”

I open them to see her click the lid back on the eyeliner pencil and toss it into the depths of the makeup bag. I feel like I’m frozen in place. She looks so tense. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I didn’t tell anyone,” I reply. “I didn’t feel like I could, I had to go along with it,” 

“But you knew that I wasn’t attracted to him,” Peggy says, smoothing out her skirt. She examines me for a moment, obviously checking that my makeup is right before she turns her back to me and starts rummaging through the bag. 

And just like that, I want her to understand. It’s important for her to understand. And now it seems so silly not to have told her about it in the first place. She’s Peggy. 

“I’m sorry Peg. I really didn’t know what to do. It just came out of nowhere. He threatened to tell everyone about me. I didn’t want to help him at all. In fact, I barely did,” 

“Yeah,” Peggy replies flatly. She’s applying blusher to her cheeks and studiously ignoring my reflection in the mirror.

“That’s how that Tumblr post happened. He got pissed that I wasn’t helping him enough,” I explain. 

“I understand that he put you in a difficult position, Steve,” Peggy says levelly as she puts the blusher brush back into the bag. She zips it up and stares at it. “I really do get it. However, you have to understand that the only person who gets to make decisions about my love life is me. I get to choose who I date and who I fall in love with. Out of all people, I would expect you to understand that,” 

“I’m so sorry Peg,” Because she’s got me there. I know she has. I really wish I could disappear right now. 

“Well it’s happened,” Peggy says. She gives herself a quick glance in the mirror, straightens her corset and sighs. “I’m going to go wait in the wings,” She opens the door and before she leaves she adds “Perhaps somebody else could do your makeup for you tomorrow,”

  
  


****

  
  


The performance is a complete success. Right from the curtain up, the audience is captivated. Coulson is a perfectly earnest Oliver, Brock is a lively and cheeky Dodger and everyone sings along when Peggy performs ‘Oom Pah Pah’. She’s every inch the consummate professional. You’d never be able to tell we’d had that horrible conversation in the dressing room. However, as soon as everyone has done their bows to the audience, she’s gone. Sam doesn’t hang around either so I’m guessing he left with Peggy. I don’t even know if Nat turned up. 

I should be happy that the performance went well but I actually don’t think I could be any more miserable. 

Ma is waiting for me just outside the auditorium. She presents me with a little bouquet of flowers as if I’m the star of the play. She drives me home and talks non-stop, saying how talented Phil is and what an amazing voice Peggy has and how hilarious Brock was during ‘Consider Yourself’. She says what a great kid he seems and asks me if we’re friends. Now that’s a question and a half. 

As promised, she gives me back my laptop as soon as we get home. I take it up to my room and sit at my desk. I’m feeling more confused than ever before. Peggy, I totally get. But Nat? I mean, I probably shouldn’t be so surprised how pissed off she is. If I really think about it, I get it. And I get that I totally had it coming. After all, we chose to exclude her from the trip. I know how I would feel if someone did that to me. Hell, it wasn’t that long ago that I was getting put out by the thought of her and Sam hanging out without me.

I’ve been such a shitty friend lately and I know that I should be begging forgiveness from both Nat and Peggy. But, honestly, the only thing I can think about is exactly what Brock said. He doesn’t seem like he mentioned anything but the blackmail. And that could mean that he doesn’t want to admit that he’s Winter. But it could also mean that he’s not Winter at all. The possibility of that gives me a fluttery, hopeful feeling in my chest. 

I’ve made a mess of it. I turned it into a drama but there’s still hope. Despite everything that I’ve gone through since that day that Brock caught up with me at the library, all the shit that has gone down since I still really care about Winter. My feelings for him are so persistent. They could almost be my own heartbeat. It’s always there, ticking away in the background but so fucking important to who I am. 

I turn on my laptop and log in to the Captain America email account. I go through the inbox, scrolling down and down and then it hits me. Every single one of those emails has a sent time. I click on them, slowly going through them and realizing how many of them were sent during rehearsal. When Brock was standing on a stage and saying in his lines in that perfect Cockney accent or belting out ‘Consider Yourself’. With no access to wifi. 

So Winter isn’t Brock. He isn’t Bruce either. He’s just a guy. A simple, amazing, funny guy. I read through every single email he ever sent me, right from the beginning and I relive everything. This time I’m not looking for clues as to who he might be or trying to read between the lines or look for slip-ups. I’m just drinking it all in, every word, every subject line. 

And I’m falling for him all over again. 

  
  


******

  
  


From: jasontoddstires@gmail.com

To: wintersoldier36@gmail.com

Subject: Us

Winter, 

You have no idea how many drafts of this email I have sitting on my laptop. I’ve been rewriting and deleting all weekend, and try as I might, nothing seems quite right. So I’m just going to let myself type and see how it goes. 

I’m sorry it’s been a while since I’ve emailed you. It’s been a really strange and messed up couple of weeks. It’s not really an excuse but I hope it serves as an explanation at least. 

I want to get one thing out there right now. I know who you are. And no, I don’t mean I know your name or what you look like but I do know you. I know you’re this great guy. You’re funny and intelligent and you’re sensitive and careful and you make time for me. You listen. You take everything in. Even the bits that don’t seem important. You remember tiny little details. You’re passionate about the people and the things you care about. You always know how to make me smile and make the world seem less shitty. And I’m really honoured that I’ve gotten to know you on the inside first. Some people may say its ass backwards but I think it couldn’t be more perfect. 

I’ve been doing so much thinking recently. Well, more like taking stock. Is that a thing that people still say? I feel like it’s not. But anyway. I’ve been thinking about you so much. It’s made me realize, after rereading every email I ever sent you, that I put so much effort into making you laugh or trying to be cute or sound smart that I missed the opportunity to really take a chance and put my heart on the line. 

So this is probably getting to the rambling stage right about now. I’m trying to say that I like you. That I really like you. Although I’ve tried to be silly and jokey, my flirting with you was never part of that. I want to know you. All of you. And curiosity is the smallest part of that. I have no idea how our story ends. Maybe the ending hasn’t been written yet. Hell, I don’t even know if it’s possible to fall in love with someone only through text on a screen but I think that’s what this is. 

I really, really want to meet you Winter. I want to see what happens. I want our story to expand. I can’t imagine a world where I don’t get to see your face. A world where I don’t get to kiss you. 

You’ll know that there’s a big school thing at Coney Island today to celebrate the success of the play. I’m going to be there. I really hope that I see you. 

Love, Steve

  
  
  


*****

  
  


So I click send and then I close my laptop and try not to overthink what I just did. Of course, that means that I’m feeling antsy as hell on the drive to school. I crank my podcast up and try to immerse myself in the art world but my heart is fluttering and my stomach is on a spin cycle and it’s hard to concentrate on anything the host is saying. 

I almost fall on my face while I get into my costume. I spend the better part of fifteen minutes trying to find my ragged coin purse before I realize that it’s slung around my hips. I forget that I’m already wearing my contacts and wonder why the hell the view is so weird when I put my glasses on over them. I can barely sit still while one of the workhouse orphans does my eyeliner. 

Everyone is bustling around me. Keyed up because this is it, our final performance and they want it to be perfect so we can go out with a bang. Months of preparation and hours of rehearsal time has led up to this moment. Some of the other cast members are already getting tearful. Coulson is extra amped up, doing vocal runs and fiddling with his costume. I know that I should be feeling the same way but my mind keeps going back to Winter. Winter. Winter. Winter. 

I make it through the performance and god knows how I did because I don’t remember very much of it. We take our final bows and all of a sudden everybody is hugging and Ms Parker is giving a speech thanking everyone for ‘their tireless work behind the scenes’ and ‘coming into school on a weekend’. I hear her give a special mention to Bruce and see him self consciously shuffle onto the stage and give a little bow, headset and all. Coulson disappears off the stage and returns with a huge bouquet of flowers which he hands to Ms Parker as the rest of the cast goes wild with applause. She blushes and I can almost feel a lump in my throat as I realize just how much work she’s put into all this. Not even counting how she went on a mission to single-handedly get those bullies suspended. I’m starting to wish that I’ve gotten her a card or something. 

Still, just because the performance is over doesn’t mean that we’re done. Once the audience has filed out of the auditorium we have to take down all the posters, clear the stage and make sure all the costumes are packed away in trunks to be taken in the storeroom. This all takes forever. Or at least it feels that way. I feel like I’m constantly yanking my phone out of my pocket and watching as the time slips closer and closer to THE time. My stomach and my heart are going crazy. 

Finally, at six, I can’t stand it anymore. I don’t want to be late. I see an opportunity and just slip out of the door. I hurry to my car and try to keep a lid on my excitement. After all, I have no freaking clue if Winter is even going to turn up. He hasn’t responded to my email so I could be setting myself up for a major fall here. But, whatever, I don’t care. I have to do this. I just have to. Most people are going straight to Coney Island from the school but I have a quick detour to make first. 

  
  


****

  
  


The t-shirt is waiting for me underneath my pillow. I’ve decided that I’m going to wear it today. I pick it up, feeling its soft black material. I pull it on and stroke the Red Hood symbol across my chest. I don’t know, maybe it’ll bring me luck. I grab my hoodie and check the time. I’m really going to have to get my ass in gear to make it to Coney Island on time. 

I rush over to the mirror to see how I look but get distracted by something scratchy between my shoulder blades. I reach around and find myself grabbing what feels like a piece of paper. I tug it free.

It’s a letter. Handwritten with beautiful lettering that slopes to the left slightly. My heart starts to pound and the paper quakes in my hand as I read it.

_ Hey Steve,  _

_ I want you to know that I love that messy blonde hair of yours. And the way you look when you’re listening to something on your headphones. I love your blue eyes and the way you smile. You must be crazy to think that I’m not attracted to you. _

Right underneath that message is his phone number. My heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest and I feel like my whole body is vibrating. I stare at his words. At the paper, he’s touched to make those neat letters. I stare at the repeated ‘loves’. And right now I could just call him and find out exactly who he is.

But I’m not going to. I know now that he’s going to be waiting for me and it’s going to be a million times better than a conversation over the phone. He’ll be there in person and that means I really need to get going.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are! the final chapter :) a huge thanks to everyone who has commented and left kudos on this!

** Chapter Nine **

It’s already getting dark by the time I arrive at Coney Island and, honestly, I could kick myself up the ass for being so late. Everywhere I look there’s lights and noise and, just like the Homecoming game, there’s a magic feeling in the air. There’s the delicious smells of hot dogs, fresh donuts and cotton candy and a feeling that anything could happen. I really hope that it does. I’m worried that Winter has come and gone already but there’s no way I’d be able to know. I purposefully left my phone at home. I don’t want to break the spell.

I look around for familiar faces and instantly spot Bruce and a couple of girls from the chorus by the hot dog stand. They catch my eye and Bruce waves me over. He’s wearing the famous Superman t-shirt again but it means nothing to me other than that it’s an awesome shirt. He smiles at me and nods at my own t-shirt. 

“Red Hood, cool!” 

We tackle the rides, stopping in between to devour the various snacks that are on offer. I always forget just how awesome Coney Island is as we ride the Ferris Wheel, the old-style carousel and challenge each other at the bumper cars. We make it our mission to try everything once, hooting with laughter as we crush ourselves into one of the baby carousels, Bruce in an airplane and me covering the entire top deck of a double-decker bus. 

Eventually, we grab some more hot dogs and pull up a nearby bench. We people watch as we eat. Occasionally seeing one of the other cast members or someone from one of our classes. There are plenty of strangers too, people who probably go to our school but I don’t recognize. My heart leaps into my throat every time one of them happens to make eye contact with me. There are no secret signs, no lingering gazes but I’m not giving it hope yet. I know that if it’s meant to happen, it’ll happen. 

I finish my hotdog and finally see Peggy and Sam. They’re by a shooting range and Peggy is currently completely kicking ass while Sam watches her in admiration. He’s already holding a blue bunny rabbit and a camel and it looks like Peggy is going for the hat trick. 

“I think I’m going to need a bigger room after tonight,” He says as I approach. 

“Crane games are easy when you know how,” Peggy replies as she’s handed a teddy bear. She gives it a quick squeeze. She looks at me. “Come and hang out with us,” 

“You’re sure?” I ask, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. 

“Yes,” She replies with a nod. “I’m really sorry Steve.” She hands the bear to Sam who hangs back tactfully. 

“I’m the one who’s sorry Peg,” 

“Well, I think, given the fact that you were being blackmailed by an arsehole you definitely get a pass,” She smiles at me. “This time,” She adds with a wink. “That and I’m having difficulty staying angry while I’m so happy,” 

She turns to look at Sam who beams back at her. They really do seem well suited for each other. I feel the horribleness and awkwardness that was between us melt away and, just like that, we’re a squad again. We make for the cotton candy stall, Sam juggling the plushies in his arms so that he can take Peggy’s hand. 

“You’re gonna be one of those couples aren’t you?” I tease. “The grossly happy, PDA types,” 

“You betcha,” Sam says. 

“Ah, so is this the famous shirt?” Peggy asks, stroking my left sleeve. “I was beginning to wonder if we’d ever see it. It’s not often that you find an item of clothing worth travelling all the way across the city for. I’m going to assume there’s a story behind it?” 

I shrug. I know I’m going to tell them the story someday but right now, I’m more concerned about how it’s going to end. 

“So it’s about the dude you’re looking for I’m guessing,” Sam says. He has that look on his face. That wily, I-know-you-buddy look. 

“Wait, what?” 

“Please Steve,” Peggy rolls her eyes. “It’s very obvious that you’re looking for somebody. You can’t keep your head still and your eyes are all over the place,” She suddenly looks serious and gives my arm a quick squeeze. “I really hope you find him,”

  
  


*****

  
  


By the time eight-thirty rolls around, I’m nowhere closer to finding Winter. I don’t even know what to think anymore. Maybe he doesn’t want me to find him. Maybe he’s not even here. He likes me, that much is clear. Well, it was clear. The note was written over two weeks ago now and, as the magic starts to slip away, I start to realize what an idiot I’ve been. I had that damn thing under my pillow all this time with no idea the note was there. It’s not exactly impossible that in that time he could’ve changed his mind about me. About us. 

Most of the people from school, Sam and Peggy included, have either gone home or decided they were done with fair food and headed off to hit up a fast food place. I know that I should probably be heading home too but I can’t leave. Not yet. There’s one ride that I avoided while Bruce and I were doing our tour. I knew it would be the last place I’d find Winter but, I’m a sucker for completion so I decide I might as well have a quick ride before making tracks. 

There’s no line up for the tilt-a-whirl so I climb straight on and choose one of the blue metal pods. I finger the wheel in the middle that you’re supposed to spin to make the ride whirl even faster. The attendant makes sure that I’m buckled in and he hurries off to check the other pods. I let the chatter and laughter and carnival music drift away as I close my eyes and wait for the ride to start. 

And then, I’m not alone anymore. I feel someone slide into the seat next to me.

“Hey, mind if I sit here?” 

I open my eyes and it’s Bucky Barnes. Cute Bucky Barnes with the long brown hair that suits him perfectly. He’s tied it back into a man bun. He looks really good. I smile at him. 

“I really like your shirt,” He says. His blue eyes look anxious. 

“Thanks,” I reply. “It’s a Red Hood t-shirt,” 

The attendant comes back to the pod, checks Bucky’s seatbelt and then closes the little metal gate locking us in. 

“I know,” Bucky says gently. I don’t know what makes me realize it. Maybe it’s the tone of his voice. The knowing look in his eyes. Maybe it’s because the magic is still here after all. We stare at each other. 

“It’s you” 

“Sorry I’m late,” He apologizes as a grinding noise starts up. There’s a sudden jolt and the music starts up again. There’s a shriek of laughter and the ride suddenly comes to life. 

****

  
  


Bucky’s eyes and teeth are clenched shut. He’s quiet and has his hand clamped over his mouth. I try my best to keep the metal wheel in place, it’s fighting to spin, to whirl us around and around. His eyes don’t open even when the ride finally comes to a standstill and people around us start to clamber out of their pods.

“Are you okay?” I ask him. I want to reach out and touch him but I’m still feeling crazily nervous. He finally opens his eyes and he slides out of the pod.

“I will be,” He says. 

  
  


We exit the ride and head to the nearest bench. He sits down right away and puts his head between his knees. I sit next to him feeling antsy and awkward and all kinds of nervous, still not quite able to believe that this is really happening. 

“I only just got the email,” he explains after a couple of minutes. “I was so sure that I was going to miss you,” 

“I can’t believe that it’s you,” 

  
  


“Yep, it’s me,” He smiles shyly. He sits back up. “You really had no idea?” 

“None at all,” I reply. I know I’m staring at him but I really can’t help it. Of course, I knew he was cute but why didn’t I notice that cute way that his lips only just barely meet? Or his long eyelashes that frame those perfect eyes of his? He has a little mole on the side of his neck and I swear it’s the cutest thing I’ve seen in my life. 

“At times I thought I was being really obvious even though I was trying hard to be so secretive,” He says with a laugh. “I could’ve sworn that time after band practice you’d worked it out,” He watches someone playing the crane game ahead of us. “I think I really wanted you to work it out,”   
  


  
“Why didn’t you tell me after you found out who I was?” 

“Because,” he sighs and it comes out very shaky sounding. I really want to touch him right now but I don’t want to rush it. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more in my life. Not even that signed Ewan McGregor poster Sam found that time on eBay. “If you had been looking for Winter to be me then you’d have worked it out for yourself,” 

I wonder if that’s true. I don’t really know how I’m supposed to respond to that. He sounds kind of sad. 

“You didn’t give me much in the way of clues,” I finally say.

“I thought I was being really obvious, especially when you got some of the clues right in that email that you sent when you tried to guess,” 

“I was so convinced I was right. But wait, a comic book character beginning with B? There’s a famous comic book character called Bucky?” I ask. 

Bucky chuckles and it’s honestly one of the most endearing sounds I’ve ever heard in my life. A strand of hair comes loose from his bun. It takes a hell of a lot of self-control on my part not to reach out and tuck it behind his ear.

“I did say that most people would think about the TV show first,” He replies. “Bucky O’Hare,”

“Oh my god, I’m an idiot. The space rabbit!” I mean, he’s right. Not many people would think about the Bucky O’Hare comics before the cartoon show. Those comics are pretty rare nowadays and hard to find. Exactly like Bucky himself. 

I feel bad. I was looking so hard and completely in the wrong direction. I wanted him to be Bruce so much that I wasn’t willing to look in any other direction. Maybe if I’d have realized sooner we wouldn’t have gone through that period where we didn’t speak. I’m such a fucking idiot. 

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I should have figured it out,”

“Hey, that would have been pretty unfair of me to expect you to do that,” He says gently. His entire face is lit up. His eyes warm and his smile comforting. God. How has this guy been sitting at our table for the past few months and I’ve never really looked at him? 

“But you guessed that it was me,” I protest. 

“Yeah, I guessed that it was you a while before I said anything. Even before you gave away your English professor’s name if I’m being completely honest. I was so scared that I was maybe just seeing what I wanted to see that I didn’t want to say anything,” 

“So...you wanted it to be me?” Ok so I know I’m probably grinning like a crazy person right now but I really don’t care. Coney Island slips away and it’s just Bucky and me in our happy new bubble. 

“Yeah,” He says, shy again. 

:” And you just rode the tilt-a-whirl for me,” I tease. 

“Yeah,” he laughs. “I must really like you huh?” 

He really likes me. And I really like him. There’s no room for overthinking in this bubble. I reach forward and I take his hand. He squeezes right back and it becomes the most perfect moment that I’ve ever had.

  
  


****

  
  


Later that evening, after so much talking, countless fries and a side trip to Walmart for some Hershey’s kisses, Bucky Barnes is no longer single on Facebook. I’m pretty sure that this wins the internet for the day. Less than a minute later, Steve Rogers goes from single to in a relationship. It generates a metric fuckton of likes and an almost instantaneous comment from Peggy which says “LIKE LIKE LIKE SO MANY LIKES” and a text message demanding that I call her. 

I reply and tell her that I’ll talk to her in the morning. I go back to my Whatsapp contacts and call Bucky instead. He picks up after the first ring. 

“So, there’s some big news around Facebook tonight?” I say. He chuckles and I swear I can hear that perfect smile down the phone. 

“Yeah,” 

“That does mean we’re gonna have to decide if we’re gonna go down the Sam and Peggy route. What do you think? Keep it real classy like they do or do we opt for the spamming of people’s news feeds with countless kissing selfies, loved up statuses and constant updates about where we are and what we’re doing?” I flop back onto my bed and feel almost drunk with happiness. 

“Oh definitely the last one,” Bucky replies. “We can announce our anniversary on a weekly basis. And don’t forget several nightly posts lamenting how much we miss each other,” 

“Sounds good,” I pause. I can’t quite believe I’m about to be this much of a cliche. “I do actually miss you though....man, what a shitty time to be grounded!” 

“So what are you doing right now?” Bucky asks. I realize that I don’t actually know where he lives. I’m going to have to change that as soon as possible. I want to imagine exactly where he is right now. 

“Just laying on my bed and staring up at the ceiling. Y’know, having a good old chat!” 

“To your boyfriend?” I can tell that his smile becomes wider.

“Yeah. Him.” 

  
  


****

  
  


So we fall into a natural and easy pattern. Making goo-goo eyes at each other across the lunch table, trying not to stare at each other in class. Getting relentlessly teased by Sam and Clint for being lovesick puppies. Spending my forced nights at home texting each other silly memes and chatting about everything we can think of. 

Life really has taken a complete one-eighty. Except there’s something hanging over my head. Nat. It needs to end. We haven’t spoken since our last argument and it’s stupid. She’s part of our squad and I can’t ignore the gaping hole any longer. When I spot her in the parking lot at the beginning of school, I open the car door and park myself in the passenger seat before she can say anything. 

“Get the hell out of my car Steve,” She demands. She doesn’t look at me. Instead, she makes a point of staring at the Pip-Boy bobblehead that’s on her dashboard. 

“No. I want to talk to you,” I say. To emphasize the fact that I’m not going anywhere, I buckle myself in. She sighs loudly.

“Well, it should be obvious that I don’t want to talk to you,” She’s tapping her nails on the steering wheel now. She only does that when she’s really pissed off. 

“Take me to the comic book store,” I say. This time she does actually turn to look at me, her expression is a mixture of disbelief and pure murder.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? First, you just invite yourself into my car and now you’re demanding that I chauffeur you? Yeah. No.” 

“I’m not kidding even a little bit,” I say firmly. “I’m officially carjacking you,”

She stares at the bobblehead again and, just for a moment, I think she’s actually going to just abandon her car and leave me in it. A second later though, she backs out of the parking space and she’s driving. She doesn’t say anything or turn the radio on. Her anger fills the silence in a way that should be horribly uncomfortable. But, I’m so determined that we’re going to have this out, I push through it. 

“Look, I know you’re really pissed at me,” I say. “I’m sorry about that night out. I really, truly am,” 

She stays silent. 

“We need to talk about this Nat,” 

Nothing. 

“Just say something. Anything!” 

“We’re here,” she says shortly, coming to a stop outside the comic book store we’ve spent countless hours in. “You can get your latest issue of fucking Nightwing or whatever,” 

“You’re coming in with me,” 

“Not going to happen,” 

“So we’re just not going to be friends anymore?” I ask. “You don’t even want to talk about any of this after all the things we’ve been through together?” 

“You have Peggy to talk to,” Nat spits. 

“Ok, so you’re really going to have to tell me what the problem is here,” I’m trying really hard not to raise my voice with her. Maybe that’s what we need. To yell at each other until it’s all worked out. “You clearly have an issue with her,” 

“I actually don’t,” Nat shoots back. She’s tapping on the wheel again. “I just don’t understand why you’re suddenly best friends with her. Sam too. But that’s whatever. He likes her. It’s cool. But I don’t get why you’re obsessed with her too,” She sighs deeply and then, all of a sudden, her tone changes. “I guess she’s one hell of an upgrade,” She sounds sad. “Best friend two point oh, prettier, perkier and happier,” 

“Stop it, Nat. You’re my best friend. You know you are,” 

She snorts.

“You’re all my best friends. You, Sam and Peggy. But there’s no way she could replace you. There’s no way anybody could replace you,” I suddenly realize that I’m almost on the verge of tears. “You’re Nat,” 

“Ok so tell me why she was the one you came out to first,” she says. She doesn’t sound as angry now. She actually sounds upset. She sighs heavily and shakes her head before I can even open my mouth. “I know I don’t have the right to be pissed about it because it’s your thing. I really threw me for a loop. I’ve always known that Sam has a thing for her. Anybody could see it a mile off. That boy is about as subtle as a freight train…I kinda suspected that you’re gay and, I don’t know, it felt like you didn’t trust me enough to tell me first,” 

“I trust you, Nat, you know I do,”

“And you trust her more. I get it,” She’s starting to sound more upset. She pauses for a moment and, in the way she always has, deals with her sadness through sarcasm. “It makes sense right? You’ve only known me forever whereas you’ve known her almost a year,” 

“It didn’t have anything to do with trust,” I reply, it’s getting harder to talk past the lump that’s in my throat. I stare at the front of the comic book store. Trying to focus on something so I don’t totally lose it. “You’re right, I have known you forever and that’s what made it harder. You know me so well Nat, you know all the embarrassing shit that I’ve done over the years. You were there for all of it including my emo phase. I just don’t have that history with Peggy. That’s what made it easier to tell her first…” I sigh because I’m not entirely sure I’m getting my point across to her. “It’s like I was trying on a new part of who I am…”

“And it’s easier to try it on with someone you don’t know so well?” Nat offers. It’s the first time that she’s sounded like her old self. 

“Exactly,” I feel relief wash over me. “I really wanted to tell you, Nat, you have to believe that. It felt like it was getting to the point where it was getting harder and harder to bring up,” 

“I mean, I understand that,” She says. “The longer you sit with shit, the hard it is to talk about,” 

We’re both silent for a couple of minutes and she doesn’t offer any further explanation. I remember how I had that realization that there are certain things that I don’t know about Sam and Nat. The deep things. Not just how they prefer Fallout 3 over New Vegas. Or how Nat is always a paragon when she plays Mass Effect and always picks Kaiden over Ashley. Or that she wants to study law at college.

“Nat?” 

“Yeah?”

“What happened with your Dad? We never really talked about it,” I turn to face her. 

“There’s not really much to say,” She shrugs. “He cheated on my Mom with some nineteen-year-old hottie as his work and then he just left,” She offers me a wan smile. 

“I’m so fucking sorry Nat,” 

I can’t believe I never asked her that question. I’m such a fucking asshole. All this time and I could’ve asked. It’s not going to happen again.

“Oh my god Steven Grant Rogers, you are not about to cry,” Nat says with a roll of her eyes. I look at her and I can see that she’s holding back tears herself. And, of course, that is the point where I totally lose it. Full on, one hundred percent tears and snot. “You’re a fucking mess Rogers,” Nat says fondly. 

“I know!” I wail dramatically and collapse into her shoulder, the gearstick digs into my hip but I don’t give a shit. Her arms are around me and I’m smelling the familiar smell of her strawberry shampoo. “I really do love you Nat. I’m so, so sorry about everything,” 

I hear Nat sniff.

“Did you get something in your eye, Nat?”

“God Steve. Just shut up.”

I wipe my eyes and laugh.

  
  


***** 

  
  


FROM :  [ brocktherock@gmail.com ](mailto:brocktherock@gmail.com)

TO:  [ jasontoddstires@gmail.com ](mailto:jasontoddstires@gmail.com)

SUBJECT : An apology

Rogers, 

Lets be real here. You probably totally hate me and, like, that would make sense given the circumstances. I don’t even know where to start with all this shit man. The best place to start would be to say sorry. Like, sorry is such a small shitty word and inadequate for what I did. I wanna do this in person but I reckon you don’t even want to look at me so here I am.

Ever since we had that chat in the parking lot, I can’t stop thinking about what you said when you said that I took something from you. Lemme tell you man, I know I took something fucking enourmous. It’s like I didn’t let myself see it before. But now I do. And dude, I can’t believe the things I did to you. All of it. Especially the blackmail. I mean, that’s exactly what it was. Fucking blackmail. And then there’s that tumblr post I made. I guess you never found out but I actually deleted it before the mods even had a chance. I know that doesn’t make it all better or anything. Like, literally as soon as I posted it, I started to feel sick. I’m not even gonna bother asking you to forgive me or anything. I just want you to know how sorry I am. 

I’m gonna try and explain it but it’s probably gonna sound dumb as fuck. It’s super important that you know that I’m not homophobic at all. I know it doesn’t seem like that. But I’m not. You are what you are dude and what you are is awesome. 

My brother came out last summer. Like right before he headed back to college. It was this massive fucking deal with everyone in the family. My parents are suddenly obsessed with PFLAG stuff and being really involved in the community. And what makes it weird is that my bro isn’t even home. And when he does visit or Skype us, he doesn’t even mention anything to do with it. My parents and I actually marched in this year’s Pride Parade and did some volunteering for PFLAG. The weekend before I accidentally found out about your email account, I Skyped with him and told him about it. He was quiet for a bit and then said “Uh, cool”. It seemed like he thought that it was a bit much and, I dunno, maybe it is. What I’m trying to say is that I was in a super weird place that Monday. 

It sounds like I’m making a bunch of shitty excuses. I kind of wanna delete this shit but I’m not gonna. All of this was about me having a crush on a girl and feeling really weird and desperate. And, dude, I was jealous. Hella jealous. A girl like Peggy moves to our town and then she instantly wants to be best friends with you. You have so many friends already and I don’t even think you realise how much of a big deal that is. This isn’t me attacking you or anything, it’s just like, it all seems like it’s so easy for you and you don’t even realise it. You’re really fucking lucky man. 

I wouldn’t blame you if you’ve already stopped reading this shit. Hell, it probably stopped making sense after the first paragraph. I just wanna get it all out there and, again, for what it’s worth coming from me, I’m really, really sorry. 

So I’ve heard the rumours that you’re dating Bucky Barnes now so I’m guessing that he’s Winter. Honestly dude, I’m really happy for you and if there’s anyone who deserves to be happy and loved, then it’s you. You’re a great guy Steve, really freaking awesome and your drawings are so insanely talented. It’s been cool getting to know you and hanging out with you at Starbucks. And dude, if I could do it all over again, I would have blackmailed you into becoming my friend and left it at that.

Here’s one more apology for the road. I’m really sorry Steve.

Sincerely, 

Brock Rumlow

  
  


*****

  
  


It feels like it takes forever but, finally, Ma lets up on the grounding and I’m free again. The first thing I do is ask Bucky to come round to my place after school. As we step into the house, I can’t help but look at it through new eyes. I’ve never been bothered about Sam and Nat seeing the chaos but with Bucky, it’s different. I should’ve really thought to clean up but I was so caught up in being alone with Bucky that I’ve spent the day in a flurry of excitement and nerves. 

“You hungry or thirsty?” I ask after we park ourselves on the couch. It seems way too forward to take him immediately to my room. 

“I’m fine,” He says with a smile. I nod and there’s a beat. I really want to kiss him and I’m not entirely sure why I’m delaying it. 

“You wanna watch something?” I nod towards the TV.

“Sure,” He brushes a strand of hair behind his ear and I feel like I’m about to lose it. Like literally melt into a puddle on the floor. 

“I don’t,” I say shyly. 

“Then let’s not,” He grins at me. He’s waiting for me to make the first move and it’s honestly so fucking perfect. He’s clearly not about pushing me to do something that I don’t want to do. But I know that, underneath the nerves, I’m ready. That and Ma isn’t due home for hours. 

“So, you wanna see my room?” 

I lead him up the stairs and he takes the time to look at all our family photos that line the staircase and hallway. Including the ones of my Dad. He laughs at the traditional baby photo of me naked on a rug in front of the fire and gently teases me through years of Halloween costumes. When we reach my bedroom door, he takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. I can’t believe that he’s really here and that this is about to happen. 

Of course, I haven’t cleaned my room either. So when we walk in, I find I’m kicking a couple of dirty t-shirts to one side, stashing random brush pens into my desk drawer and throwing an empty Kisses bag that’s lurking on my desk into the garbage. My bed is fully made so we decide to sit there. Our backs are against my wall and our legs are outstretched. Bucky admires the various art posters that adorn my walls.

“So when you email me, you’re normally at your desk?” He asks, nodding towards it. Even though I stashed the pens in my drawer, it’s still a disaster area. There’s my drawing board, my lamp, my DC Funko Pop bobbleheads and the shelves above it are covered with paints and pen pots full of drawing materials. I’ve always wanted to get them organized but I’ve never gotten around to it. 

“Yeah, usually,” I smile at him and decide enough is enough. I lean forward and kiss him gently on his jawline. When I pull away, he swallows hard. He turns to face me and then we’re kissing. Really kissing. It feels as natural as breathing. His hands fist in my hair and my fingers brush against his cheek

“I like this,” He says when he finally break apart. 

“Yeah, I think we should do this all the time,” I reply. “And nothing else. No meals, homework, school…”

“Well actually, I was going to ask you to the movies…” He smiles again and it feels like the sun coming out. I hope that never changes. 

“Movies suck,” I joke. “Why would I want to watch other people kissing when I could be using that time to kiss you?”

“You make a good point Mr. Rogers,” He pulls me in and kisses me hard, there’s an urgency to it and it makes me hard. I know that he is too and it’s an entirely new feeling to me. It’s thrilling and nerve wracking at the same time. It feels like it’s a big deal. And, of course, it is. This is it. There’s no going back from here. I’m definitely ready and so he is. So yeah, this is a big deal.

A hugely awesome, wonderful, amazing big deal.

  
  


**THE END**


End file.
